


Trust this Love (Believe in Me)

by MalicMalic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Homeless Castiel (Supernatural), Homeless Dean Winchester, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Introvert Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Poor Castiel (Supernatural), Reporter Dean Winchester, Secret Spy Gabriel, Trust Issues, Writer Castiel (Supernatural), loads of hurt, mentions of Daphne Allen, mentions of Zachariah Adler, slightly OCD Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:28:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29062845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalicMalic/pseuds/MalicMalic
Summary: Castiel is an introvert and a cautious person, but he does enjoy helping others. One day, a set of circumstances has him bringing home a homeless person and from that day on his life changes - for the worst. He gets hurt and reminds himself why he shouldn't trust people. Will Dean be able to persuade him he is sorry for what he has done? Will Castiel ever believe him when Dean tells him he is in love with him? Title derived from the songFrom the Heartby Another Level.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 80
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

"I'm not upset that you lied to me, I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you."

**Friedrich Nietzsche**

* * *

"I most certainly am not!" Castiel was beet red as he yelled at his step brother Gabriel. The guy was slightly annoying on a good day, but apparently today was 'Let's pick on Cassie day.' Castiel hated that nickname.

"And now you sound British." Gabriel huffed a laugh as he passed on clean empty bowls and spoons to the people in the line.

"I do not!" Castiel retorted throwing his brother a dirty look as he poured hot soup into the bowls people would extend to him. Some snickered at the brother's bickering, others tried to be polite and hid their faces so that Castiel wouldn't see their smirks.

"Only a Brit wouldn't use abbreviation where he can. We Yankees are very lazy and would say _don't_." Gabriel mocked back and Castiel could do nothing more but _Pfff_ at him and cross him arms for only a moment, before he threw them up in the air.

"Fine! I'll prove it to you! I will prove that I am not wasting my life living in a bubble, that I am not a chicken! I am not afraid to go out and do something adventurous!"

"By all means. Go out and buy Captain Crunch instead of Cheerios. Get high on the sugar, go nuts." Gabriel said with a laugh. He liked to tease his brother, but this was a bit more serious. This time he really wanted to provoke a reaction.

Unlike his step brother who was either a secret spy or a independent contractor as his business card said, Castiel was a closed off person, an introvert if you will. His days consisted of sitting home, reading and editing lame romance novels for Crossroads Publications Inc., while trying to write his own story and hoping that Mr. Crowley would do good on his promise and at least give it a read. He didn't have any friends aside from Gabriel who spent most of his time out of the country and was almost never here. Castiel always claimed his social skill were lacking, but the truth was, he was scared to go and meet new people. Last two times he did, he got stabbed in the back and it served to only make him even more closed up then he was before.

"Face it, bro. You are a coward. You are scared to go out and meet new people and try new things. Heck, if it wasn't for this kitchen, you wouldn't even leave the apartment. " Gabriel said as he motioned around the open cafeteria that was part of the homeless shelter. Few years back, Gabriel managed to persuade him to come out here and help out. He put his best wounded puppy look and used ' _for a good cause_ ' to guilt him into it. He had hoped it would help Castiel, but so far, nothing had really changed. Cas would just come, serve the people with a smile and leave after it was done.

"I'm not a coward!" Castiel shouted, still sounding pissed off, but with tears brimming in his eyes. Good, he was upset. Maybe that would get him out of his shell and make him do something, anything. Castiel's chest were heaving, his ears burning a hot shade of red and he was gritting his teeth at his step brother who just threw him a _'I am right and you know it_ ' smile and turned to serve the last few people in the line, and completely ignored Castiel's huffing and puffing, and it pissed him off. He looked around sharply, suddenly unsure what to do, but needing to something, feeling compelled to act, and it he had a something to throw at Gabriel, he would. But a man, last one in the row came up to the big pot Castiel was serving out of, and Castiel grabbed the paddle with too much force, but when he went to scoop up the soup, he found the pot to be empty.

"That's okay. At least the kids got to eat." The man said and when Castiel looked up he was met with the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. The man was dirty, with his hair long and greasy under his cap, his beard thick and tangled and filthy and Castiel really wasn't a germaphobe, but he still made a face at the man's appearance. Still, his eyes shone bright, too bright for someone who was homeless and broke and was last in line for food and ended up not getting any. It wasn't fair.

"What's your name?" Castiel asked just as the man was about to turn and walk away. Those green eyes looked at him once again, and Castiel could make out a small smile under all that façade.

"Dean." The man offered and waited to see what Castiel would give in exchange. After all, some of these people had nothing more then their good name.

"Well, Dean. You're in luck. I just happen to have some Chinese leftovers at home that I would mind sharing with you." Castiel said, keeping his eyes on the man, purposely not looking at his step brother who was clearly listening in and was about to protest. There was a difference between helping people and doing something potentially dangerous, this was not what Gabriel hope to accomplish. But before he could say anything, Castiel spoke up again. "In fact, I have a working shower and a free couch, I bet you could use one good nights sleep?" Castiel said and watched as Dean's eyes widened at the offer and glanced at Gabriel before nodding uncertain.

"Cassie..."

"I think you can manage the dishes without me. Have a nice evening, Gabriel." Castiel interrupted as he took off his apron, set it down on the table and rounded it, coming up to Dean. "Please. Follow me." He said, then he brushed past the confused man and headed towards his apartment that was only a block away. He didn't see Dean glance at Gabriel once again and give him a shrug before turning and going after Castiel.

* * *

It took Castiel exactly five seconds to regret his outburst and his decision as he heard the footsteps follow him. This was a stranger he so easily invited into his home, a man he knew nothing about except that he ate at a national kitchen and was most likely homeless. He spotted a rucksack over the man's back when he walked past him, probably containing all his belongings. But all of this spoke nothing about the man's character.

For all Castiel knew, Dean could be a serial killer or a rapist, or both. Dean might not even be his real name.

"Hey, um..." Castiel flinched and dropped his keys when the man spoke, then huffed and crouched down to pick them up. He looked up when Dean spoke again and from that position he could see the man blushing. "If you don't want to do this, it's fine, I get it... If this was just a way to shut that guy up, I am happy to play along, but you don't have to... I mean if you're uncomfortable..."

Castiel rose back up and met those amazing green eyes, and even if he wanted to laugh it off and agree with Dean, he just couldn't. He sighed, but smiled. "No, I, um... You didn't get your portion, and I do have some leftovers, it isn't much, but... I would like to share them."

There was definitely a small smile hiding under all that unruly beard, and Castiel couldn't help but wonder what the man might look like without it? Maybe he would look good, handsome even? Or maybe, he has a nasty scar that the beard is hiding? Maybe something even gruesome, like maybe someone tried to cut out his tongue and he struggled and got cut all over the... Castiel really should reel in his overactive imagination and save it for his book.

"As long as you're sure, man. I mean, I could always go and try to fish something out of the bakery before it closes..." Dean offered, but they both knew that the bakery in question was already closed, so Castiel just shook his head and motioned for the man to follow him.

The place really wasn't much, one bedroom and a kitchen/living room all cramped up together with so little space, it could only fit a small coffee table and a couch and even with that there was not much room to maneuver in the kitchen. Castiel motioned for the couch as he spoke up "Have a seat, I'll just find the leftovers and heat them up..."

"I think... I don't mind standing." Dean said looking a bit apprehensive.

"Stand? Why?" Castiel frowned as he looked between Dean and his couch, then focused on the furniture piece like it had personally offended him.

Dean let out a sigh, finally stopping shifting from one foot to the other. "I hate to bust your bubble, dude, and it is really nice of you to have invited me, but I... I am dirty. I got mud and who knows what else on me, and I really don't want to get all that shit on your couch."

"Oh." Castiel said and looked over Dean, his eyes roaming his entire body before he caught himself and cleared his throat, never noticing the amusement on Dean's face. "Then, um..." He paused for a moment, thinking and finally came up with an idea. "Then you'll shower first and I'll give you a shirt and sweatpants I got... How's that?"

"I..." Dean seemed to be stunned for a moment. "I didn't think you were serious about that..."

The statement made Castiel frown. "I might have been angry at my brother, but I meant what I said. Food, shower and... um... Place to sleep. For tonight." The frown melted into embarrassment as he added that last part. He wanted to help, but he had his limits, most of them financial. Besides, even this was way beyond pushing his boundaries. Except for Gabriel, he didn't invite anyone in his home, not even that nice kid that help out at the shelter, Alfie. This situation was really out of his comfort zone, but he needed to prove to Gabriel, and maybe himself that he could do this, he could go out and meet new people and socialize, he just chose not to. Less complications, less headaches... Less hurt.

"Dude... I really don't have to do that... " Dean said, looking torn, but at the same time hopeful.

"I know. I want to." Castiel replied and took a deep breath, trying to look certain of his decision. "Come on, let's find those clothes and get you into that shower..." He paused mid step on his way to the bedroom, his eyes going wide and whipped around to face the man. "No, I meant... Not to... To show you where the shower is... That's... That's what I meant." Dean looked amused, smiling, but Castiel couldn't face those eyes, feeling mortified. Hell, maybe Dean wouldn't have even thought anything of what Castiel said, if he hadn't tried and correct himself and come out as an idiot. Shit, he had to make it up to Dean, he had to make it right. As they walked the short distance to Castiel's bedroom, he contemplated what else he could offer Dean, overwhelmed with sudden urge to do something more. But it wasn't really that the fact that he wanted to help Dean as much as it was this inner urge he sometimes felt, an urge that told him that things have to be right, have to be proper, correct. Balthazar, the manager of the national kitchen, and in his own way a Gordon Ramsey, would joke sometimes and say Castiel had an OCD, but he didn't. Not really. No, ne didn't.

Dean hummed as they entered the bedroom and drew Castiel's attention. The man was looking over at the bed, some longing in his eyes, and by God, that was it. That was that extra thing Castiel needed. With that idea, he quickly fished out some old sweats and a plain white T-Shirt, handed them to a surprised man then showed him to the bathroom. He nearly pushed him inside, and closed the door behind him, completely forgetting to show him where fresh towels were and what soap he could use, or anything else Dean might need (a toothbrush and a razor would have been nice). Instead, he skipped (yes, skipped!) back to his bedroom, giddy and with a smile on his face as he dug into his wardrobe in a search for clean sheets.

* * *

When Dean emerged from the bathroom, Castiel was fussing around the kitchen, frowning at the open boxes of the Chinese leftovers. There were actually a few of them along with a container of what was probably soup. As soon as he heard soft footsteps, Castiel turned and smiled widely, before catching himself and reeling in that smile, but couldn't help the rush of heat he felt in his cheek. "Hey..." He trailed off, desperately needing to look away.

Because Dean might still have that long beard and that long hair, but it was clean and even from a few feet away, Cas could tell the man smelt like Castiel's soap. Not to mention he was wearing his clothes... Castiel scrunched his eyes shut, and let out a grunt. He really needed to get a hold of himself, NO! No , not that, he needed to stop. Yes, it has been a while and maybe he felt a little lonely sometimes, but he couldn't go and dump that on innocent people. He needed to remember Dean, or whatever his name was, was a stranger and that he should be careful. But how could he when those green eyes seemed so earnest and inviting?

"So..." Once again, Dean's voice snapped him back to reality and Castiel huffed, then turned to the food.

"Yes. I might have overestimated my leftovers, I am not sure. I got some Kung Pao chicken and a few bites of Yungchao fried rice. I do have some tomato rice soup and some fried noodles from yesterday I think they are still good. And I also have exactly two dumplings." He finished with a smile. Dean came closer, but still at a respectful distance and peeked to see that even though there were a few different dishes, there wasn't much then a few bites of each, except for the chicken. Still all of those things combined should be enough, or so Castiel hoped.

"I call dibs on the soup?" Dean tried, phrasing it more like a question, perhaps to see if Castiel would allow it.

"Alright. I'll take the rice and we could um... Split the rest evenly?" That earned him a grin, and wow, the man had such a charming smile under all that facial hair.

"Cool. So, I'm just gonna..." Dean said and pointed to the couch with both his thumbs to which Castiel nodded, then got to work reheating everything. Dean sat down, setting his rucksack next to the couch and then tested it for comfort by bouncing off of it once. He hummed appreciatively then started looking around. Odd silence filled the room. It was a bit awkward, but not as much as Castiel would have imagined. He was never good at making small talk, and even if he was, what could he ask? Somehow it all seemed to private, especially for a man in this situation. How do you ask someone why they are homeless?

"So... What's your name?" Dean asked looking over the couch and seeming like a little lost kitty with their claws digging into the material in hopes it wouldn't slip down.

"What?"

"Your name? That guy, your, hm... brother? He called you Cassie, but somehow I doubt that is really your name... Unless you don't want to tell me which is totally okay, I get it... You don't have to, it not... I'll stop talking now." A little lost kitty indeed. Castiel surprised even himself when he laughed, but it was worth to see that spark in those green eyes.

"Castiel. My name is Castiel. And before you ask, no, I am not a foreigner, I... I have absolutely no idea what my parents were thinking when they named me." The sound of Dean's laughter filled the room at the last comment just as the microwave sounded it finished reheating the food. Castiel brought two trays over to the couch and they sat, each on the farthest end and ate in relative silence. Dean complimented him on the food choice once, and another time he told him he had a nice place, and Castiel just muttered a few _Thanks_ and that was it. There was never a moment when Castiel hated being socially awkward so much as this one. He feared he might say something wrong, ask a wrong question, and this was a stranger he was sharing his meal and couch with. This was a man he knew nothing about. Images of Dean running after him with a knife came to mind before Castiel shook them away. Luckily he remembered to turn on the TV, so that provided enough of a distraction, even if it was a cheesy soap opera.

When they finished their meal, Castiel was uncertain if Dean wanted to keep watching the TV, but thankfully the man caught on, so he made a show of stretching and showing off a patch of skin unintentionally as his (Castiel's!) shirt rose up. Castiel did not look. "Are you sure it's okay if I stay the night?" Dean asked, his face purposely void of any emotions.

"Yes, yes, of course... I invited you and... well..." He paused, biting his lower lip, not sure how to convey the idea he came up with. "I was thinking... I... I want to show you something." He finally settled and beckoned Dean to follow him back to his bedroom. Dean patted along behind him, drawing Castiel's thoughts to the man's bare feet. When did he take of his shoes? Castiel always took them off when he he entered his apartment, did Dean do the same? He was startled out of his thoughts when he abruptly stopped and Dean bumped into him, but the man immediately took a step back and apologized even if it wasn't really his fault.

Tingles traveled down Castiel's body at the thought of another warm body touching his, but no, he would not go there. NO. Just no.

"So, what did you want to show me?" Dean asked and was that a blush? Castiel couldn't tell for sure. He motioned for the bed and why did he think Dean would understand and not jump to conclusions? "Your bed?" Dean asked and Castiel nodded as if it was clear as day what he was offering. Dean paused, as he glanced back at the bed and then looked up at Castiel, his face suddenly guarded and untrusting. "Look man... I think there was a misunderstanding here... I am glad you offered me food and a shower, but I don't... I didn't..." What was happening? Dean was getting riled up and also seemed on alert like Castiel would attack him over his words or something, so he tried to choose them carefully, but eventually ended blurting out what was on his mind.

"I don't offer sexual favors, okay? I didn't think this was that kind of a gig, otherwise, I would have said _Thanks, but no thanks._ Lots of sleezebags asked me to blow them or let them fuck me in exchange for a few bucks, but I refuse. I would rather starve then sell out like that..." Dean brushed his hand through his hair and paced a bit looking around and on the ground while he spoke, only looking up at Castiel once he finished. He completely froze and stared at Castiel who could feel the exact moment his face drained of all colors, it was pretty much at the same time he stopped breathing. His lower lip shook and his eyes filled with tears, because, no, he wasn't that person Dean was describing, he would never do that, he couldn't, he...

"Oh, shit! That wasn't what you... Oh, crap, I am sorry, I'm so... Could you forget I said anything? Castiel? Cas?" Dean was there, eyes filled with concern and dread as Castiel didn't respond, having an emotional turmoil in his chest that threatened to explode, because he wasn't that kind of a person, he would never do that to someone, he would never make someone do anything they didn't want, and it was clear that Dean was wary of him because he thought Castiel might actually attack him and maybe even rape him and oh God! A small hiccupped sob escaped him because that was exactly what Zach tried to do and he knew, Castiel knew how it felt and he remembered how much it hurt and...

"I didn't... I..." He tried and forced himself to focus, because he had to explain, he had to make Dean understand this wasn't what he wanted, he had to make him understand he didn't want to hurt him, only help him. "I didn't... I wanted to... I know those beds in the shelter... They are not very comfortable... And... And I know most of you adults let the kids or the elders sleep while you take the ground or... I just... I was going to take the couch, and let you... I am so sorry, I didn't mean... I wanted you have a decent night's sleep, I am... I didn't..." He was shaking and his eyes burned a hole in the ground as he spoke, not daring to meet those beautiful greens and see any resentment in them.

"Crap, I am sorry, man. I just assumed... I'm really sorry. Here you were just trying to be nice and I have to go and open my big stupid mouth and... I'm such an idiot." Dean said and finally Castiel looked up to see it to be true, his eyes so vibrant with color and pleading and hopeful. He forced a smile on his face even if the sound of Zach's laughter still echoed in his head.

"It's okay... I should have been more clear about what I intended, I am sorry."

"I should have asked what were your intentions before I practically yelled at you." Dean countered and it might have been true, but Castiel still wouldn't hear it.

"No, no, that's perfectly understandable considering your situation. You asked if we could forget this happened and I would like for us to do so, is that okay?" Castiel offered and Dean nodded, gracing him with a small smile and a grateful spark in his eyes. "But I still insist you take the bed." He said and watched as Dean started shaking his head.

"No, no, man, I couldn't. Especially after what I just said..."

"I thought we agreed to forget it?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"No buts. This is something I want to do. For at least one night, you could have a proper meal, a proper shower and a proper bed. Please. Allow me to do this." Castiel said, this time not letting his eyes drop, but force them to stay locked with Dean's as he wanted to win this argument. Somewhere along the line, he completely forgot why it even mattered, why was it so important for him to do this, he just knew he needed it. He was pleased when Dean caved and nodded, so with a smile Castiel wished him a good night, picked up his pillow and his blanket that were waiting for him on his dresser and closed the door on his way out.

For the first time in years, his nightmares were chased away by pleasant dreams of a green-eyed man and of the two of them just talking and playing cards and commenting on a movie, plain, simple things, but still things that required a second person, things he could not do alone.

When the morning came, Castiel woke up with a neck cramp, but to a room filled with a sweet smell of coffee, and when he looked over, he saw a his old coffee maker buzzing and a note next to it. Castiel got up and picked it up, smiling as he read it over.

_Had to dash, but didn't want to wake you._

_I put on some coffee, least I could do after the kindness you showed me._

_I will repay you for it someday._

_Thank you, Cas. Really._

_I'll see you around._

_Dean_

* * *

It would be four days later that Castiel could find time to come down to the shelter to help out. Mr. Crowley was pressuring him into finishing editing a really badly written story, and Castiel barely managed not to just burn it all. Maybe he would have if it was a hard copy instead of a digital one on his poor excuse of a laptop, courtesy of Crossroads Publications Inc.

"Well, if it isn't our little prince Charming, savior of all?" Meg shouted out, making every head turn in his direction. Castiel froze, not even remotely comfortable with this kind of attention, but luckily, these people knew what it felt like to be stared at, so they quickly averted their eyes. Still, Castiel could hear his name being whispered around the open cafeteria. He approached the table where Meg was setting up the meals to be served, looking as annoyed as ever, probably because she was court ordered to be there, he couldn't help not notice a spark in her eyes. A sort of spark that would make a man's blood run cold.

"Well, if it isn't the celebrity man himself, came down to grace us with thy presence?" She slurred just a bit as she talked, a hint of alcohol in her breath. "And here I thought you were too high and mighty now to walk with the common folk."

"What are you talking about?" Castiel asked as quietly and as calmly as he could, not wishing to rile Meg up even more.

"Oh, don't play dumb with me. Out of all the people, I would never suspect you to be such a sellout, but I guess I am not that good judge of character, now am I? You know, I always knew you were tender, but I had no idea we played for the same team." She added and Castiel's eyes went wide. How could she have known that? "But I get it, man, respect! Re-espect! That was beautifully executed. Just beautiful."

"I don't understand, what..." Castiel tried to piece it together, because Meg was making no sense. He looked at Balthazar, who just came out of the shelter, hoping he could shed some light on what Meg was talking about. However before he could even finish his sentence, Meg laughed loudly and obnoxiously.

"Like it isn't obvious. You parade that cute little ass around here, and just happen to run across Dean, _the_ Dean. Don't play dumb, you recognized him. Took him home, bent over and let him pound you, didn't you? Just for that little taste of glory, your few minutes of fame?" Meg finished and ripped today's newspapers from Balthazar only to shove them in Castiel's extremely pale face. The title in big, bold letters read: " **Dean Winchester - Vagrancy Exposed** "

Castiel snatched the papers out of her hands and skimmed over the article that was basically an exposé on the homeless in Kansas City, trying to piece together everything he had learned in the past few minutes. It wasn't until he reached the end where the author spoke of finding a kind soul on the last day of his journey and being provided a warm meal, a hot shower and a soft bed. And right there, next to it all was Castiel's name, portraying him as the angel after whom he was named.

Millions of questions rose in his head, but before his panicked mind could work through them, a voice echoed behind Castiel.

"Heya, Cas." Castile turned only to come face to face with a man he did not recognize smiling back at him and holding a box of chocolates. But he knew that voice and when he looked up and met the man's eyes, they were bright green and warm and _no, no, no , no, no..._ Castiel shook his head with his eyes closed as he stepped back, dropping the paper on the ground, looking alarmed and scared. "Cas? You okay, dude?" The man asked again, and Castiel flinched and met his eyes again, as the realization hit. _Dean._ "Cas?" Dean asked as he stepped closer, making Castiel stumble back, and raise his hand as if he wished to hold the ugly reality away.

"No, no..." He uttered and stumbled again when Dean reached out to touch him, then turned around a fled. He could hear Dean calling out to him and he could hear his footsteps as the man chased after him, but he couldn't stop, he couldn't face it, he couldn't admit it was real. That the man he met four days ago was a lie and that this is Dean, the real Dean, the Dean in brand new designer jeans and a button up shirt and shaved and with a new haircut and his damn green eyes.

"Cas wait!" Dean shouted and finally caught up with him in front of his apartment door. "Wait, please, let me explain."

"Explain what? That you used me for your story? That you advertised to the whole world what I did? They... Meg, she... Why did you lie to me, Dean? Why didn't you tell me who you were?!" Castiel demanded, yelling, but feeling his voice crack after every spoken word. He could feel the tears bubbling up, and he could only hope Dean wouldn't see it and that he would be strong enough not to let them spill.

"I couldn't. I had to be in character until midnight on Sunday." Dean said and paused, probably realizing it wasn't an excuse at all, and not just because it was Monday when he woke in Castiel's bed. Castiel shook his head, his hands trembling as he tried to find the right key to open his front door.

"I can't believe this is happening. I can't believe you did that..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trick you, I was just..."

"Don't you get it?! This isn't about me!" Castiel shouted as he turned to face Dean again, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Okay! Maybe it is a bit about me too, but it is also about what you have done. That could have been an actual person I would have helped. Someone who really needed a fucking meal and a warm bed. Someone who might have make it through another day in his troubled life. Instead, you... You took that away from them. YOU." Castiel spat out as he got into Dean's space, and the man just stood there, ready to take the hit if Castiel decided to throw a punch, and looking so much more hurt by Castiel's words, because he must have known them to be true. Once more, Castiel shook his head as if trying to repel this empty feeling in his chest and backed away from Dean sparing him one last glance before he unlocked his front door and slammed it shut after walking away, and leaving Dean behind.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was at a complete loss at how things ended up this bad. His dumb ass didn't think Castiel would be this upset, but now that he thought about it, the man had a point. He took away someone else's chance for a warm meal and a soft bed. But then again, he might have saved Castiel from bringing a wrong person home.

Dean had been on the streets for three months, and learned pretty fast what types of people there were out there. Most of them were sad, but kind and grateful for any kind of help, but there were some whose sadness turned into anger and they would lash out.

Dean groaned to himself because now he was just trying to find excuses when he knew well, it was inexcusable what he did. Just the heartbroken look in those amazing blue eyes was enough to make him want to hang himself in shame. Fuck, he did that. He hurt him. That sweet, shy man.

He came home that night and went through the motions of getting ready for bed, but he didn't really pay attention to what he was doing. More than once he had caught himself pacing the length of his living room, or holding his head with both hands, then swiping them down his face as he cursed himself over and over and over again.

He kept replying everything that happened, everything he saw.

Balthazar, the head of the national kitchen, was walking by, eye rolling Meg, then throwing Castiel a concerned look before he saw Dean, then shook his head with a deep sigh. Meg... She was showing Castiel something, the newspapers? That bitch must have said something, Dean knew her well by now.

Dean knew them all. Balth was uptight and some would say snobbish, but he cared, he cared a lot. He and his siblings were orphaned when they were kids, then scattered around the states, because who would want to take 7 kids at once? Dean was only able to piece the names of 4 others - Hannah, Ana, Ezekiel and Joshua, but it didn't matter, because Balthazar never found them, any if them.

So he took in Alfie, a scrawny kid who was hurt, abused by his own parents and ran away from home, ending up on the streets. Every day, after school, he would help Balth in the shelter, happy he wasn't on the other side of the counter, starving.

Meg was... She was a bitch. She wasn't there because she wanted to, no, she was there under court order - community service. All Dean really knew about her is that she was involved with one of the big bosses in the criminal industry in town and when he went down and got locked up, she did everything she could to bust him out of jail. But she was caught, and after some prison time, she got off on parole and anger management therapy and forced to help out in the shelter.

But none of them could have known Dean was the guy Cas took home. Yet they all seemed to recognize him the second he stepped foot in the cafeteria. Something didn't add up.

Why was Meg showing Cas the newspaper? Yeah, sure, he wrote the article, but what did that have to do with Cas? Something didn't add up.

Dean had to figure out what.

If he had one of those antique clocks, it would have struck midnight just as Dean booted up his laptop. He always preferred paper rather then digital form, it was about feeling the page under your fingers, the scrape if the pen against it, the inerasable trail it left behind. He still turned in all of his work in paper, much to his editor's annoyance.

They still issued the papers in a physical form too, but one could also read it online, like pretty much anything these days. It has been ages since he last looked up Kansas Post online, but something about the article and Cas reading it made him restless, and this was the fastest way to see what he might have read to make him so angry with Dean.

A voice in the back of his mind kept whispering ' _excuses, excuses, you already know why'_ , and Dean knew the voice was right. But still... Something didn't add up.

" _...and at the end of my journey, like a light at the end of a dark tunnel, there was a man. One man whose kindness outweighed all those torturous events, one act that overwritten all the bad feelings and made me smile. Like the angel Castiel, angel of tears and solitude, he took it upon himself to free me of those, allow me a night of warmth, comfort and contentment._

 _It only proves that a single person holds more power then..._ "

"What the fuck?!" Dean said as he scanned the text again. He didn't write that. He didn't mention Cas or anything that happened that night. In this part of the article he spoke about people in the shelters that helped out anyway they could, about those that donated money, stuff or even their time to help out and that presenting a blanket to a man that had lived on the cold streets meant so much, and the smile you get in return, the feeling that you have done a good deed is priceless.

Dean grimaced at the thought, because yeah, that's exactly the feeling he took away from Cas by doing what he did, and mentioning him, by name, in the article was just... Rubbing salt on an open wound, if not worse, he would never do that, intentionally or otherwise. Which meant...

"Naomi..." Dean said through clench teeth, balling his hands into fists and he tried to channel his anger and breathe thought it.

* * *

"What the fucking hell did you do?!" Dean yelled as he stepped into his editor and chief's office, not even bothering to close the door. Naomi looked up and raised her brow at Dean, looking as if she didn't know what he was talking about. Which was probably true, God only knows how many times she added or removed text from his stories. Dean should really read what they end up posting. "Why did you add that part about a guy taking me home!?"

Naomi rolled her eyes as she took off her glasses and set them down on her desk as she turned more bodily towards Dean abandoning her work on the laptop. "It is simple. Your story lacked something, it lacked the impact, something to draw a reaction from a reader. So I went through our notes, I saw that someone actually took you in, and honestly, it was surprising you didn't add something so big yourself. That's why I did it for you."

Why the hell did he turn in his notes?! Why even let her know what happened on that last night? Dean felt angry, but mostly towards himself for letting this happen. "Yeah, okay, but why compare him to an angel? Why write that? You should have sent it back to me and told me to make the corrections, to add that, not write it yourself! I don't even write like that, the difference in writing styles is so obvious."

"Please, Dean. I have been your editor for years now, I know how you write. There wasn't much time, and I knew you would take forever to fix this, so I just did it myself. As for the angel part, I found that in your notes. The name and the word angel, so I Googled it, found that information about what kind of an angel he was and..."

"That's not even... There is no angel named Castiel, there is Cassiel and he is the shield of God, not some lame angel of tears and whatever! What you wrote there, didn't even make sense, your research was sloppy and your sources are fictional, based on a stupid novel by Carver Edlund!" Dean shook his head trying to get rid of the rage, feeling like trashing her entire office, but barely containing himself.

"Oh, please. It isn't like it matters. The point is the article was a success, it got the right kind of attention. The mayor already called twice, and the politicians are already fighting about who is going to donate more, or make a bigger shelter. So you see, one little guy, who we actually made into a hero of the story, just isn't that important." Naomi said and picked up her glasses, inching back towards her laptop, indicating that the conversation is over.

"Not important?! He's not important?!" Dean yelled, because that wasn't right, that couldn't be right. Not because he might have eventually end up maybe important to Dean, no. It was because these weren't the kind of papers that stomped all over the little guy to get to the big picture, no. That wasn't what any of this was all about and if Naomi's predecessor, Robert Singer still sat in that chair, he would not have said that. He wouldn't have even rewritten Dean's article, he would have called him in, smacked him on the head and sent him back to redo it himself.

"Yes, Dean. He is not important." Naomi said watching him with her glasses down on her nose, looking annoyed that this conversation was still going on.

"Yeah, well, tell that to the guy when he sues us for slander and emotional distress." He said more quietly and sounding a lot more serious, deadly serious.

"He has no grounds!" Naomi said turning back towards Dean.

"I think you using his first name in the article covers as grounds for everything else to build upon." Dean said and watched as Naomi's eyes widened, she obviously didn't know his name was Castiel, she thought it was the name of an angel Dean scribbled on the margins or something. Well, at least he broke that cold mask of hers with this last line, and had the satisfaction of shutting the door in her face and leaving her speechless and wide eyed.

But as he walked back to his desk, the glee he felt slowly diminished and was replaced by this empty feeling, sadness and guilt weighing him down. Why the hell didn't he tell Cas the truth? Why didn't he just fess up and told Cas who he was and why he was doing this? Cas would understand, Dean was sure of it.

He still remembered how adorable he was, yelling in anger at his brother. Dean wasn't sure what that was really about, he only caught the end of the conversation, but if he had to guess, he would say it was because his brother wanted Cas to get out more. Be more open to meeting new people maybe, stuff like that.

Dean bit on his lower lip as he sat at his desk and contemplated why the brothers would even have such a conversation. Why would Cas' brother think Cas needed to socialize? Why would he think Cas was closed off? Did something happen to make him feel that way, or was he always like that?

No, Dean couldn't believe that. The man was obviously great looking, and maybe a little shy... No, shy wasn't really the word to describe him.

Dean took his pen and his pad and started scribbling down words what might describe Castiel's behavior best, and when he was done, he took the pad and reread them a few times, eliminating some, because even if they were synonyms, the didn't mean the exact same thing. Finally Dean settled on _timorous_ , which meant showing or suffering from nervousness or a lack of confidence. Yes, that would be Cas, except when he took charge and decided without fear that he can do something, if he wanted to.

Bit of course, Cas, like any other person was so much more then just word, just like he was so much more then what Dean saw that night. He wasn't a chatty type, but being in silence with him was really relaxing, much to Dean's surprise. It wasn't awkward when they sat down to eat, at least not to him. But maybe it was to Cas, since he turned on the TV half way though. Or maybe he was just worried that Dean would be bored and did that for his benefit? Maybe he was just being nice? Attentive?

"Aaaaaaahhh!" Dean screamed as a big ass spider dropped on his table, and nearly fell of his chair, but quickly regained himself and turned a death glare at Charlie, who was right behind him, laughing her ass off. "Very funny, Chuckles! You could have given me a heart attack!"

Charlie, the tech wizard of the papers and also the editor of their online edition, crossed her arms and huffed at him. "You are too young to have a heart attack. And don't call me that."

"Not too young when you keep shaving years off with your pranks. One of these days I will get you, I will get you good, Charlotte." Dean said and tuned away from her, glad he could at least call her names she didn't like.

"Ugh, okay, I am sorry. You just seemed to deep in thought, and it was just perfect... You should have seen the look on your face. Here... See?" She said and shoved her phone in his face. He really didn't appreciate the expression he made in the photo, but what was worse was that it would probably end up online. Great.

Charlie pulled her phone back and grinned at the image before putting it away and focusing on Dean again. "So... Word of the day?"

It was a little game they played, not a competition of whose vocabulary was more substantial, but rather to show what the other one was feeling or thinking at the moment. Dean contemplated what to tell her, or if he should even respond after her little joke, but eventually, he caved.

"Timorous."

"Oh... Well, that's not you, so... You met someone. Tell me, tell me..." Charlie spoke with a giddy expression and no, that's not what... Well yeah, he met someone, but not...

"It's not like that. He is just this guy who was kind enough..."

"Oh, my God! It's the angel, isn't it?" Of course Charlie would know about Castiel, she did proofreading for all the things that get posted, and she read his article. And of course she took one look at his face and instantly knew. "You didn't write that, did you? I thought it didn't sound like you."

"Thanks." It felt good to have his words acknowledged by someone. Naomi was too arrogant and confident, and she might have known his style, but no way could she copy it. "Yeah, chief decided the article wasn't... Explosive enough, and the idiot that is me gave her all my notes..."

"Oh, Dean..." She said and put a comforting hand over his, and he placed his other hand over it, accepting and nodding his thanks. Her phone beeped and she took a look, frowning at the text she got. "I gotta go, the guys downstairs posted a new crossword puzzle and it came out all screwed up. I swear, if one more person posts anything without double checking the code, I'm gonna loose it... I'm really sorry about the story and the guy, Dean. Can we talk about it tonight, call me?" She said already getting up to go fix other people's mistakes like she always did. Dean just smiled and waved her off.

He tapped his pen against the pad he wrote those synonyms for and was drawn back into trying to figure Castiel out. Was the man really shy and without confidence, and if so, has he been like that since he was a kid? Had something happen to him in high school?

Maybe his high school mates found out he was gay? Now wouldn't that be a story? (No, not Dean's wishful thinking, thank you very much.) But what if he got bullied over it? What if he got hurt, like really bad, like more then cuts and bruises. Broken bones? Scull fracture? No, no that's taking it too far.

"What the hell am I doing?" Dean asked himself with a groan as he leaned over his desk, catching his face in his hands. If he wasn't careful, he would start fantasizing about him being a hero and saving Castiel from getting beat up. He sure had an overactive imagination sometimes.

"Gotta focus on something else." He muttered to himself, looked over at the ideas for the next project and checked over what sources he might have for which one, but his mind kept wandering back to Castiel. His day never ended faster and in the end, all he had to show for is a bunch of thoughts about a certain blue eyed man.

By the end of the work day, he completely gave up trying to do anything productive and instead wondered about Cas and his life? What did he do for a living? Did he have any more friends other than those people in the shelter? Somehow, Dean doubted it. As he finished for the day and walked over to the parking lot, Dean started thinking about what Castiel liked to do, what sort of books he liked, movies, music. He smiled at the thought that maybe Cas would like his music choice as Bon Jovi started singing the moment he started the Impala. Would Cas like his car? Or would he think it was too macho?

Dean smiled again as he ordered Chinese when he got home, remembering how they shared their meal the other night. Maybe Cas wanted the soup for himself, but let Dean have it? The nice thought quickly turned up a sour feeling because yeah, Cas did that to indulge him, thinking he was a homeless man. Dean just plopped down on his couch, leaving the food intact, suddenly not feeling all that hungry with the guilt weighing him down. He curled up on it and just laid there, not bothering to even drape a blanket over himself. Maybe he didn't feel like he deserved one? Maybe he didn't feel like he deserved to spend the night in his soft, memory foam bed?

Cas gave him his bed to sleep on. Even after Dean said those things to him, but in Dean's defense, in all the time he had spent out in the streets, not a day passed by that someone didn't offer something sexual, whether it was a sleezebag too ugly for a hooker, or even a fellow homeless person looking to let off some steam. God, how he blushed at the mere insinuation of sex, how adorable he was when he tried to explain. Damn, Dean felt like the biggest jackass then. The feeling hadn't changed.

He still remembered how soft Cas's sheets were, how his pillow smelled nice, but nothing flowery or girly and how good it felt to fall asleep in a warm bed after months of being on the streets. Not even his own bed felt so welcoming the next day. His memory foam didn't forget him, but it wasn't the same, and Dean just couldn't figure out why.

Dean felt asleep on that couch, his mind filled with thoughts of Castiel and how he had wronged him. The look on the man's face when he saw Dean all shaved and clean, the hurt in those big blue eyes, it haunted his dreams, making him wake up five times during the night, but still refused to go to his room. In the morning he woke up cold, muscles stiff and looked just a miserable as he felt.

* * *

Dean skipped the next two days of work, excusing himself with research for a new project and just spent these days wallowing in misery and sorrow, as his mind kept wandering back to that damn look on Castiel's face. A few times, his mind let him to remember a funny detail and he would smile, and then instantly felt guilty over allowing himself a nice emotion. He would order food, too depressed to cook for himself and then leave it to turn into icicles before finally cracking and eating it cold when his stomach started hurting. He hadn't showered in three, or was it four days now? Who cared? He hadn't showered properly in months while he was out there, what was four days? Not like he had a reason to freshen up and smell nice. He slept on that damn couch because, why not? The TV was there, sometimes loud enough to chase his sad thoughts away.

It was on the fourth... Or was it fifth day? It was then that Sammy called and Dean waged if he should answer, since he hadn't replied to any of his texts. But he knew if he didn't pick up the phone, Sam would think something was wrong and he would drop everything and come running and Dean couldn't let that happen. Sam just made Junior partner in Cage & Fish law firm and he couldn't afford to miss one day of work.

"Hey, Sammy."

" _Why haven't you been answering my texts?"_

"Well, good morning to you too, kid."

_"It's 7 pm, Dean. What's going on?"_

Of course Sam would know something's up, he always had that intuition and the ability to just see right through a person, especially his own brother. Dean sighed and ran his hand over his face. He could play dumb, he could lie and say he had a fight at work or whatever and Sam would leave it at that, he knew Dean wouldn't want to talk about it, he might say what happened, but he wouldn't say how and why it affected him. Dean was far better at bottling his emotions then expressing them, always was.

But this time it felt different. And it wasn't until he picked up the phone and actually talked to someone that he realized he had been drowning and that he needed a life buoy. He needed someone to help carry all this that had been weighing him down.

"I fucked up." He finally said and huffed in annoyance at how it sounded, like he committed a murder or something.

" _What happened?"_

Dean sat down on the couch and started from the beginning, telling Sam, in short, about this latest project of his, and Sam said he read about it and that it was good, that Dean did a good thing, which made Dean feel even worse. After a long pause, he started explaining what happened on the last night, from the moment he showed up in that cafeteria and overheard Cas and his brother argue to how he fled Castiel's bed, needing to report back to Charlie as a part of his safety protocol, since he carried no phone, he left it all to her, his car keys, wallet, apartment keys, phone, everything. Then Dean told him about Naomi writing that thing in the article and Sam confirmed that Castiel would have grounds for a lawsuit.

_"In fact, if I were there, I'd represent him pro bono. What were you thinking, Dean? Why would you accept that?"_

Yeah, Dean pretty much expected that from his brother. He didn't really knew the answer, he just knew he was mesmerized by those striking blue eyes and he didn't want them to stop seeing Dean. Not like he could tell Sam that.

"I dunno, I just did, okay. And now I feel guilty and sorry."

_"Well, you should."_

"Not really helping, Sam. I can't... I can't stop thinking about it."

_"Wait, is this why nobody has seen you for five days? Charlie called and said you missed work, Benny said you completely ignored his texts and mine too. What is really going in, Dean?"_

"I don't know, Sam. I don't know, okay? I can't eat, I can't sleep, I just keep imagining Cas's face and that look in his eyes and I... I just want to take it back, I just want to fix it. I want to say I am sorry and I want to..." Dean blurted out, but stopped himself before telling Sam he wanted to see the man smiled again, and smile at him, and look at him like he did back when he thought Dean was just a homeless guy.

_"Dean... You care about him."_

"Pff, don't be absurd. How can I care about him, I only met him once and I..."

_"Dean, you took down corporations with your articles, remember Zachariah Adler and Sandover? Why are you dwelling over one guy?"_

"Ugh, don't remind me. That guy was an asshole who was abusing his employees. Cas is... Cas is a nice guy who didn't deserve... Didn't... God, Sam you should have seen him, he was... He was heartbroken. And he said it wasn't even about what I did to him. He said it was the fact that I denied someone else a warm meal, someone who might have needed it and..."

_"You broke his trust. And now he won't be able to trust anyone so easily again."_

"Oh, shit." Dean said as it hit him. Cas was already an introvert, if the conversation with his brother was any indication and he tried to step out of his comfort zone and do something good only to come across Dean and... Fuck. What Dean did probably made the guy revert into himself even more now.

"I gotta fix this."

_"Think you do. But, Dean... Don't push, okay?"_

Sam's advice had been spot on because Dean was about to run out the door to go find Cas and apologize again and again and grovel maybe and... Yeah. Dean needed to think this through first. Maybe get a shower while he was at it.

"Thanks Sammy."

_"Anytime, Dean."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I was dead sick when I wrote this (still kinda am, damn flu), so forgive any... Well everything.  
>  But if by any chance you want read a story about highschool Cas that was bullied until Dean came along, check out this work on AO3.
> 
> The story is called [Three Months in Lawrence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29063235/chapters/71337897) by Dizzybunny.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting around for some updates,but it has been a slow week, so I thought I could surprise you all.

Castiel's leg ticked nervously as he tried to focus on the same line of text for the past hour, bitting the head of his pen, which he didn't even need. Maybe it would have been easier if he didn't get a wall of text, no paragraph, no spacing. Or maybe it would have been easier if the whole last week hadn't happened.

It still kind of hurt, remembering how he was holding those newspapers in his hands, just about finished skimming through them, having all the pieces come together as he realized he had been fooled. He remembered vividly how crushing it felt to look up and be met with those entrancing green eyes. He knew those eyes. Only the man wearing them wasn't right. He was handsome and his smile was wide and just so positive and happy and...Perfect.

That last puzzle piece fell into place, making this whole thing one big cruel cosmic joke, the truth burning a wide hole in Castiel's chest.

He lied that night. He lied to himself when he said it wasn't about him. That a person that could have taken Dean's place was more important then his feelings. It hurt badly to be cheated like that, but the feeling was slightly eased by the expression on Dean's face after Castiel yelled at him, just before he left him standing out on the street.

Before, with Daphne and Zach, when he got hurt, when _they_ hurt him, they did it with a vicious smile on their faces. They enjoyed hurting him. But Dean... He seemed hurt by Castiel's words, as if he had no idea that what he did was wrong. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he thought he and Cas could be friends. Maybe Castiel would have liked that...

But no, no... Castiel knew well not to tread down that path again, not this time, not ever. With a ironic huff, he figured how at least now, he could tell Gabriel 'I told you so.'. The man was so adamant about Castiel opening up and letting someone see what was hidden inside, and Castiel proved to him, people can't be trusted with his fragile heart.

Castiel sighed in annoyance. He wasn't that fragile. His need to romanticize things would sometimes get out of hand, and then everything seemed blown out of proportion. I mean it isn't like Dean meant to break his heart, right?

Wait, what?

It was the perfect time for a groan, because no, just no. Dean didn't break his heart, come on. He only met the man once, he didn't know much about him to begin with. Sure, he was kind and understanding and maybe a little rough around the edges, but Castiel couldn't have known if all that wasn't just an act too.

But it couldn't have been an act. That hint of sadness in his voice when he thought Cas would back out of his offer and still he said it was okay. That spark in his eyes when Castiel told him he could shower first before dinner. That small smile when Castiel agreed to give him the tomato soup. This were real, they had to be.  
Otherwise that silence as they ate would have been so awkward and uncomfortable. Castiel turned on the TV, but it was as if he did nothing at all, nothing changed. It was just so easy, to sit there and eat and be with Dean and not feel the need to say or do anything but just be.

He remembered wondering how Dean would have looked like shaven and with a haircut. Guess he knew that now.

God, why did he have to look so... Good?

A man like Dean would haunt Castiel's dreams, if they weren't already filled with nightmares. Still, it would have been a nice notion, to dream about Dean, like he did that night the man spent sleeping in his bed.

Maybe it was for the better that Castiel didn't dream about him. That his nights were filled with the horrors of his past. Dean's actions might have hurt him, but it wasn't even remotely close to what he had been through, so it wasn't fair to put Dean in the same basket as Daphne and Zach.

Dean even tried to apologize. Or at least Cas thought so. Why else would he show up at the shelter? Was that a box of chocolates he had? Maybe he was on his way to a date, and wanted to stop by and... Gloat? No, taking perverse pleasure in other's humiliation was Daphne's thing, and Castiel learned that people like that needed a bigger audience, and would go about it much more dramatically. But then... Why was Dean there?

A car honk brought Castiel out of his thoughts, and he heard an old lady shouting something, but it was of little importance. He looked up to his clock and found that yet another hour had passed, and he didn't even manage to read through the first paragraph. In his defence, it was a few pages long paragraph, so...

Castiel saved his work and closed his laptop, knowing he won't be able to get any work done today. He was useless with his head constantly swimming with thoughts of Dean and his stupidly green eyes.

Tea. That's what Castiel needed. Some good, warm tea with honey. Maybe a few cookies too. He earned them. The whole damn jar. Yes.

As he waited for the water to boil, Castiel purposely forced himself not to think about Dean, but about the plot of his own novel and the characters in it, and somehow ended up changing the main character completely to avoid any similarities between him and Dean. Still not thinking about him.

The tea was done and Castiel choose to have it in the kitchen, dipping the cookie in it and preparing to feel the sweet taste of honey. Just as he was about to lift it to his mouth, the doorbell rang, startling him. Castiel turned towards his front door as if he would find the person that rang the bell behind it, and just stared at it for a moment, the soggy cookie breaking off and falling into his tea mug.

He frowned down at it, but the doorbell rang again, and he dropped the whole cookie in the mug, be it damned, and walked the short distance to his front door. It was an old building, with phones as intercoms, and Cas picked it up, curiously bringing it to his ear and asking "Yes?"

Met with silence, Castiel couldn't help but wonder if maybe he lost his marbles and was imagining things? Was he really that lonely that he conjured the sound of the doorbell as his heart ached for a visitor? How Edgar Allen Poe of him.

Just to make sure, he tried one more time. "Hello?"

 _"Um... Hi."_ The voice said from the other side, and wow, the effect it had on Castiel was huge. Someone was really there. Someone a bit shy, or maybe uncertain, judging by their tone. A small smile appeared on Castiel's face. Even if this was a mistake on someone's part, even if they were maybe looking for the guy that lived downstairs or the lady that lived above him, it felt great to... Hear someone else.

"Hi. Can I help you?" Castiel asked the first thing of the top of his head, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the need to keep this person on the line and talking. One would think, considering his previous interaction with a stranger, he would be cautious and closed off, yet something inside of him wanted to reach out. He had never felt like that before.

The person on the other side sighed heavily, and Castiel drew a sharp breath at the sound, as it traveled deep down, shaking him to his very core.

 _"I am beyond help..."_ The stranger said, but before he could continue, Castiel cut him off.

"Don't say that. Everyone deserves a chance." He said and the stranger huffed ironically.

 _"I don't dare to hope for one."_ The stranger said and Castiel paused, because this was starting to get bizarre. It occurred to him just what he was saying and doing, his inner voice screaming at him to run, hide.

"Who is this?" He found himself asking instead of hanging up.

 _"I know you probably don't want anything to do with me, but I had to come here and tell you I am sorry. I might be selfish, but I needed you to know that."_ The voice said and no, no, no, no, it's not him, it can't be him...

 _"It was wrong, what I did, I know that now. I am so fucking sorry, Cas. I never meant to hurt you, or anyone else. I am just an idiot who doesn't always think things through."_ He, Dean, spoke and despite Castiel's heard pounding so loudly in his ears, he could still hear every words, every sorrowful tone and every heavy sigh.

 _"But I am going to fix it, Cas. I am going to repay you for everything you did. I am going to repay you by helping others. And maybe, someday... Someday it'll..."_ Dean trailed off, another heavy sigh filling the line. It sounded so deep, so hurting, so... Suicidal. Or maybe that was just Castiel's imagination overdramatizing things. Still, Dean didn't continue with that thought and Cas would wonder for a long time what Dean wanted to say.

 _"I'm sorry, Cas. I really am."_ Dean said and Castiel wasn't sure, but it sounded like he was leaving. A part of him wanted to say something, anything, because he had been right, Dean wasn't a malicious backstabbing asshole, he just made a mistake. But words got stuck in his throat and he couldn't utter one word to stop him from leaving. So with a shaky breath, Castiel reached and hung up, then proceeded to stand, rooted to the spot, staring into nothing.

* * *

The next day Castiel dragged himself out of bed and stared daggers in his coffee maker as he waited for it to brew his coffee. He had a rough night, but not because his nightmares kept waking him, but because a certain set of green eyes wouldn't let him fall asleep. He tried so hard not to think about Dean and about what he said yesterday, but it was all to no avail. He kept second-guessing if he overreacted when he yelled at him, the devastated look on Dean's face haunting him. But at the same time it hurt, and he felt so... Betrayed.

Still, Dean felt bad enough to go out of his way to apologize, for what he did to Castiel and he said he would make amends by helping others, but there was more. And Castiel knew he was being selfish, but he wanted more then apology. He wanted Dean to try and make it up to him, too. But it wasn't about him, it shouldn't be. Still, he couldn't help how he felt.

Oh, to hell with him and Dean and all of this! He was leading a perfectly content life before Dean came along and ruined everything. Up until now Castiel felt best just sitting in his apartment and editing for Crossroads Publications Inc. or working on the sequel of his novel, but now the walls seemed to close up on him, it felt suffocating to be here, and Castiel yearned to talk to someone, be around people.

It would have been easier if Gabriel was around. He had checked on Castiel the day after Dean spent the night, and Castiel told him everything was fine, but he didn't know the truth then. And Gabriel departed for Europe or Asia the day after, on yet another one of his 'jobs'. Private contractor, my ass. What private contractor couldn't be reached at all until he returned to the States? Castiel let himself be fooled a few times, but he was not stupid. He knew why Gabriel wouldn't reach out while he was on the job. He was protecting Castiel, keeping him away from harm. To Cas, it seemed exaggerated, it never felt like someone might come to the States specifically to look for him. He just wasn't that important.

Finally, the coffee was ready and Castiel poured it into his mug, inhaling deeply as he brought it close to his face. He was just about to take a sip when his phone rang, startling him so much, that he spilled it all over his hand, hissing as it burned. Yeah, that's gonna leave a mark. Shit. He set the mug down and turned on the faucet, setting his hurting hand under the cool water, taking his phone with the other. He just barely glanced at it when it stopped ringing. The display said 'Missed call - F. Crowley'.

That was odd. Mr. Crowley never called, Castiel always dealt with his secretary Ruby. She was obnoxious and condescending, and Castiel suspected she never handed his manuscript to Mr. Crowley, but dared not ask. He did his work well and was paid accordingly, or at least he thought so. The phone rang again, Mr. Crowley's name flashing on the screen once more, and the odd just transformed into extremely strange. A tingle of fear crept in his mind, it must be something really important for him to be calling twice in a row.

"Hhh... Hello?"

 _"Ah, Castiel, darling, how are you?"_ The man had the creepiest voice Castiel had ever heard, but it was fine, because when he spoke to Castiel, it was always with disinterest so it was fine. This, however, sounded different.

"I'm fine, sir."

_"Good, good, that's good. You doing good with Mrs. Rosen's work?"_

"I am making progress, sir." Castiel gulped around the lie.

 _"Excellent. Take your time, there is no rush."_ Odd.

"Alright, sir." Castiel replied, not knowing what else to say.

 _"Right, right. Now, tell me, Castiel, I remember you mentioning something about a novel of your own?"_ Could it be? Was Crowley taking an interest in his work? A strange form of excitement filled his chest at the possibility that Mr. Crowley might consider publishing it.

"Yes, sir. I handed Ruby a copy a week after I started working for you." Cas replied sounding a bit too eager.

_"Ah, Ruby. She must have misplaced it. Would you mind running down to the office and handing in another copy? I wish to personally read it and... if I like it, we might be able to work something out. That is if you are still interested in publishing?"_

"Yes. Yes, sir. I have a hard copy on my laptop and I can..."

_"Oh, that is excellent news, then you can just mail it to me, and I can see that Ruby prints it out."_

"I will do so immediately."

_"Well. Then it is settled. I will call as soon as I skim through it. I suppose no further editing is required? You are after all my best editor."_

"I... I am?"

_"Definitely. No one puts in the work you do."_

"Um... Thank you, sir."

_"You keep that up, Castiel. Don't let the few minutes of fame get to you."_

"I... I won't, sir..." Castiel said uncertain. For a moment he thought that Mr. Crowley was talking about the future, when his book gets published and his name becomes known. But as he reeled in the whole conversation and how strange it was that he personally called him, and said he would personally read Castiel's work, something felt off. Why would Mr. Crowley suddenly think that what Castiel wrote might be worth publishing?

" _Good. And do keep those new friends close. We'll be in touch."_ Mr. Crowley said and hung up, leaving Castiel in complete bewilderment. What new friends? Who was he talking about?

Like a train, it suddenly hit him. His boss had read that article Dean wrote. Of course. Balthazar told him once that he thought Crowley was a bad person (a fink was what Balthazar called him and Castiel had fun looking up the word). All of a sudden, Castiel started seeing Crowley in a new light, like a movie villain, who was looking to make a quick buck off of someone else's success. Not that having your name pop up in the local paper was any kind of success, but Crowley seemed to think that due to that, there was a money making opportunity, too good to pass on.

But Castiel didn't want that. He didn't want to be remembered as the guy who allowed himself to be fooled and tricked into doing something nice for a person that didn't earn it.

Driven by his twisted sense of justice and his own hurt, Castiel sat down in front of his laptop, typed a letter of resignation and sent that to Crowley instead. He will not work for such a fink.

He felt pretty proud of himself, and somewhat glad he wouldn't have to read one more sentence of Becky's kitsch. Until two hours later when he realized he didn't have a job anymore.

* * *

Castiel startled awake, groaning as he lifted his head off the couch's armrest where he must have fallen asleep. He had spent the whole day yesterday looking through job offers and reconsidering going back to Crowley. The man was a slimebag, but a paycheck was a paycheck.

  
Still, his own stupid principles and moral kept him from growling back to him and Castiel found himself in a very unenviable situation. If he didn't get a job within a week, he won't have enough for groceries and rent. Since he was payed by commission, and his last editing was completed over a month ago, the money had already run thin. He should have finished Becky's _Time for a Wedding!_ before he quit.

Now, as it was, he would have to spend yet another day looking for work. Cas got up to stretch and glanced at the kitchen. He was almost out of coffee, so with a heavy sigh he went ahead to prepare tea. Not his favorite morning beverage, but it would have to do. A knock on his door made him pause halfway between the couch and the kitchen making him frown at the door.

Considering that visitors had to be 'buzzed' in (the air quotes are Castiel's, not mine), this could only be someone from the building. Maybe it was the guy downstairs again, Nash or Dash, whatever was his name... No, Ash. Right. He would come by sometimes looking for matches or sugar. Still, wasn't it a little early to get high?

Without thinking, Cas opened the door, only to find a stranger on the other side. The man was tall and had broad shoulders, a military haircut and wore a black suit.

"Mr. Novak?"

"Um... Yes?" Castiel made his response sound like a question, not so sure he wanted the man to know he was in fact Mr. Novak.

"My name is Mr. Kipling and I am here to collect the property of Crossroads Publication Incorporated. Please hand over the laptop that was provided when you started working for our company." The man said calmly, and yes, alright, at least he wasn't he wasn't there to kill Cas or worse.

"Yyes. Yes, of course. Just..."

"I am afraid I don't have much time to stand about. Please hand over our property, so that I may take take my leave." This Kipling guy seemed impatient, and Castiel took a step back to glance at the laptop on his couch. Kipling must have taken that action as an invitation, so he just walked right into Castiel's home, going straight for the computer.

"Wait, please. I have personal stuff on it." Castiel said, hoping the man would allow him a moment to copy it all, but Kipling just looked at him, his lips curling into a half smile as he picked up the item in question.

"I don't see how that is my problem." He said and Castiel really wanted to stop him, because hell, his entire novel, the only remaining copy was on it, he wanted to plea, and ask for only a few seconds, but somehow didn't think it would matter to this man. And Castiel certainly wasn't going to fight him for it. That notion was just absurd.

"Please..." He managed to utter, but Kipling paid him no mind, letting himself out of the apartment. For the next few minutes, Castiel remained in the same spot, just looking at the floor absentmindedly, wondering what the hell did he do wrong to get to have a life like this, then slowly turned and shut his front door. He leaned his head on it, closing his eyes and just tried to breathe.

His work was gone.

Or maybe not? Maybe he could still take Crowley up on his offer and compromise himself and his principles in the name of survival? But what kind of life would it be, knowing he had sold himself out?  
It was a few hours later that Castiel realized he would actually have to go out to look for a job, having no other means of cruising the internet, and he really didn't feel like going and talking to people, but if he didn't do it, then...

Tommorow. He'll go tomorrow. Today had already worn him out and it wasn't even noon. He felt like he didn't have strength to breathe much less do anything else, and he really need to think things through. Tommorow, he will rethink everything, make a plan of action and then go out and fix it all. Tommorow. There was a reason they call it wiser then today.

Tommorow came around too quickly, but at least Castiel had an idea about what he was going to do, having spent the entire night thinking it through between the nightmares. First, he would go down to Crossroads Publication Inc. and ask Mr. Crowley for his manuscript or at least the digital copy. The man was a sleazeball, but he wasn't a thief. Then he would go to see Balthazar.

If Gabriel were in town, he would have helped him, God knew he offered so many times, and Castiel declined each one. But that was back when he had at least some cash and a job. If he only asked, he was sure Gabriel would assist him, at least until he got back on his feet and was able to repay him. But Gabriel was unreachable. So Castiel decided to turn to the only other person he knew might be able to help him, if by nothing else, then with a job recommendation.

With all the hope he could muster, Castiel left his apartment and locked the door behind him.

Ruby was at the front desk, as she always was, and she dismissed Castiel before he could even explain. She said Mr. Crowley wasn't in today and that Castiel should come back tomorrow, or in a week or possibly never again.

As he walked out of the office, Castiel already decided he would fight for this, but a job was a priority. While he walked a few dozen blocks to the national kitchen, he thought about what sort of work he could do. Sure, he was a writer and a linguist of sort, but it was hard to find work in that field. He was good with his hands, maybe he could do something else? 

Castiel looked around, seeing all the small and big business around. He could be a florist? He always liked flowers, but wasn't much of an artist when it came to decorations. A book shop? That could be perfect. If only they were hiring. Oh, a restaurant! He could work there, serve food. Or at least be the bus boy. Or wash the dishes? There were many possibilities, and Castiel found himself a bit excited at the prospect of learning new things, which was really strange for him. 

Why was he getting worked up about being around people? The whole point of his work-from-home thing was to avoid people, and here he was now, eager to do it. Must have something to do with basic survival. If he wasn't cornered like this and had a choice, he was sure he would have picked staying at home.

With those thoughts in mind, he rounded the corner and walked to the open cafeteria, just as the people were finishing their meals and dropping off dirty dishes. He hadn't noticed who was serving until he approached. Meg was there, somewhere in the back along with Alfie, and Balthazar didn't seem to be around, but none of that matter, because right there, dead on center, stood a man, smiling up at the people and giving out thank-yous as they placed the dishes in a plastic box.

He looked up just as Castiel came to a stop, his vibrant green eyes widening by only a fraction, his smile faltering for just a second before it was back up full force.

"Heya, Cas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me.


	4. Chapter 4

Like a goddamn idiot, Castiel just stood there, completely struck by just how green those eyes were. Sure, he remembered them, they were the first thing Castiel noticed about the man, but seeing them again... And there was so much uncertainty in them, just like that night when they stood in front of Castiel's apartment and Dean offered him an out. Offered him a chance to change his mind, but at the same time, he looked so hopeful just like he was now. Question was, what was Dean hoping for?

Dean seemed to pick up on Castiel's indecisiveness in the situation he found himself in, in the situation _Dean_ put him in, so he quickly ducked his head and wiped the smile of his face, looking away in shame. Still, no matter what happened between them, Castiel wanted to bask in those green eyes, he wanted to be seen again, so he opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the words wouldn't come. Castiel just remained standing there, with his mouth open like a goddamn idiot he was.

Thankfully, Balthazar chose that moment to exit the shelter and draw both of their intentions, stepping in their line of sight. The man paused, looked at Castiel first, then at Dean. "I'll go take these... Wash..." Dean muttered, picked up the plastic container with the dishes and headed inside. Castiel watched him go, finally taking a breath after those green eyes were out of sight, but also wishing they never left. He startled badly when he turned and found Balthazar materialized in front of him. Wasn't he like ten feet away?

"Are you alright?" The man asked, and it would have been comforting if he chose to set his hand on Castiel shoulder, and Castiel wished Balthazar ignored his aversion to be touched, but he held back respectfully.

"Why... Why is here?" Castiel whispered out, trying to tear his eyes away from the door Dean disappeared through seconds ago.

"He... He came back yesterday. Tried to apologize and said some mumble jumble about how he ate food someone else could have eaten, I don't know. He seemed really distraught and honestly? He creeped me out. But then he spoke about redeeming himself and hoping to help, and... Well, you know I don't turn away anyone willing to help..."

Dean wanted to help? He wanted to volunteer at the shelter? Cas' shelter? Well, it wasn't Castiel's, but it was one he chose to help out at, and he was starting to feel a bit comfortable there. He knew the place, he knew the people, both those that helped out and the ones that came for help. And now, Dean was there? Helping. 

Castiel felt dizzy.

"You know I won't let him stay if you don't want him here." Balthazar said regretfully. It seemed as if he valued all the time and patience Castiel put into working at the shelter, and maybe even considered him... A friend? Certainly, only a friend would offer something like this? A friend would decline assistance if the person offering it hurt their friend?

Castiel confused himself sometimes.

"No, no, that's... It's okay." Castiel said snapping out of it and finally turning to face Balthazar.

"Only if you're sure." The man said and Castiel nodded.

"I'm sure." Castiel said still nodding. After all, this wasn't about him, it was never about him. It was about the people they could provide food and shelter and if Dean being here contributed to the shelter working better, faster, then it would be worth it. Right?

"I am kind of glad to hear that. With Gabriel out of town and Meg not really helping much I could use the extra hand." Balthazar said, and his words made Castiel feel a bit guilty. Not that Balthazar would ever hold it against him, but the fact is, since that night he took Dean home, he hadn't been back to the shelter to help at all, too preoccupied with his own feelings. He felt ashamed, because this wasn't supposed to be about him, yet he made it such with his pouting and aimless wandering around his apartment.

"You need another set of hands?" Castiel asked before he could think it through, and the kind smile Balthazar gave him, made him feel better. Still not about him.

"Always."

"Where do you need me?"

"Um... Well, Dean is doing the dishes, so you could clear out the cafeteria, bring Dean whatever dishes there are..." There was trash that needed to be taken out, a place could use a sweeping, Castiel was already taking everything into account, taking off his coat and setting it aside to start working. Letting himself get lost in it all, he completely forgot about his problems, that now didn't even seem that important. Not when there were people around, smiling at him despite not knowing if they'll have what to eat tomorrow or a place to sleep.

Once he gathered all the remaining dishes, he carried them into the shelter, his breath hitching slightly when he saw Dean elbows deep in the water in the large sink. His shirt was rolled up, the material wrapping tightly around his firm biceps and Castiel would tell himself he was just surprised because he was so focused on his work, he forgot Dean was there. No other reason at all.

"H...Hi." He said and hated now he sounded. He wished he could have come through the door standing tall and proud and give a proper greeting, maybe make his voice a bit deeper, more masculine. He wanted to look strong and unaffected, casual even, like none of this bothered him. Because it wasn't about him.

Dean's eyes snapped up to meet his, and he gasped, probably surprised too. Not like he was swept away by the bright blue of Castiel's eyes. Cut it out, stupid overactive imagination. Still Castiel couldn't help but feel just a bit pleased when Dean stuttered with his greeting too.

"Hhhey. There. Um... Hi." Dean said and huffed a nervous laugh, his mouth dangling open as if he wanted to say more, but forgot how to, his vibrant green eyes glued to Castiel. It made him feel uncomfortable, but much less then he thought it would, and it also kind of made him feel good? Maybe? A bit?

"I got... I got a few more dishes and these two pots, you want me to..." Castiel said, but not after his hands began to cramp up under all the weight.

"Nah, no, let me..." Dean said, snapping out of his daze and taking the plastic container away from Castiel. Their fingers brushed as the item was past on, and Castiel had no idea why he noticed something like that, much less why it made him feel all tingly. Dean submerged the plates and the cups under water, while leaving the big stuff for the end. Castiel just... Stood there.

Like a goddamn idiot.

Or at least he felt like one. But Dean didn't seem to mind or notice him at all, he just dove right back in, cleaning the plates, rinsing them and setting them aside to dry.

"I'm just gonna see if Balthazar needs anything else." Castiel heard himself say, but he didn't want to leave. He should have asked if Dean needed help or if he wanted Castiel to perhaps dry the dishes and put them away. He felt so at odds with himself all of the sudden, because he wanted to stay, even if he had a feeling he should go.

"Cas..." Dean's words stopped him dead in his tracks just as he turned around to leave. He took a deep breath and dared to glance back at those big greens. "I just... I am sorry."

There. That's why a part of him wanted to bolt out of there, like it knew Dean was going to remind him of everything. Of the hurt he felt, of how he spent a great evening with someone who turned out to be someone else. Of how those kind green eyes weren't supposed to go along with that face. Of how they betrayed him.

But it wasn't about him, it wasn't supposed to be about him. If it wasn't about him, then he could accept Dean being there, because he was doing good work. He wasn't doing this for Castiel. 

But what if he was? Why would that have to be wrong? Doing the right thing for the wrong reasons was still doing the right thing? Right?

Castiel felt dizzy.

"I..." Dean started, but must have seen Castiel's shoulders tense up, because he changed course. "I hope you don't mind that I decided to work here? If it bothers you, I can always go find another shelter to help out."

"No, no... It's... Um... It's fine." Castiel's rushed to say. This was not about him. It was about the shelter and the people and they needed more help and Dean wanted to help. Easy as that. Dean nodded, giving Cas a quizzical look before focusing back on his task. Hopefully he sensed that Castiel didn't want to talk about what had happened and would drop the matter.

Castiel spent three more hours in the shelter, talking to people, cleaning, handing out fresh cleaned blankets and toiletries. It was about that time that he felt his stomach grumble. He stopped and frowned, and considered the time. It was close to 4 PM and he realized he hadn't eaten anything today. He was just about to reach and check his wallet, to see how much cash he had and what he could buy when Balthazar called him over. It seemed as though Meg was being more difficult then usual so the man asked if Castiel would help him out in the kitchen.

Normally, Balthazar and Alfie did all the cooking, and Meg helped out by chopping vegetables or pealing potatoes, but she was grumpy all day long, throwing Dean dirty looks whenever he passed by her. Something must have happened between them, but Castiel had no idea what, and thought that maybe it wasn't his business. Still, as soon as he entered the kitchen, he understood why Meg refused to help out today.

"Where... Where is Alfie?" Castiel asked and Balthazar followed his gaze to Dean, who was altering between stirring a pot and pealing potatoes.

"He has an exam tomorrow, and when Dean heard, he offered to take his share of the work so that the kid could go and study. I am making bread and Dean is cooking potato stew. Will you be okay to help out?" Balthazar asked tentatively.

"No, yes... Of course. Where do you need me?" Castiel asked. He could do this. It was fine.

"We need carrots and onions pealed and chopped, maybe you can take over potatoes from Dean so that he could handle the meat?" Balthazar asked and Dean glanced their way with a small smile. Castiel nodded, took a deep breath and approached Dean, repeating he could do this. He set to work on the vegetables, while Dean turned to slice the meat. He couldn't help but glance a few times at the man, feeling drawn to his movements and how skilled he was. Not only was he fast, but every little piece of meat was cut into nearly perfect squares.

The last time Castiel took a peak, Dean caught his look and smiled a bit, making Castiel turn away with a blush. Dean hissed and Castiel snapped his head back around to find Dean moving towards the sink, his hand bloody. Without a second thought, Castiel rushed to him while Dean stuck his hand under to cool spray of water.

"Is it deep?" Castiel asked, unconsciously reaching for Dean's hand to inspect it.

"I just nicked it." Dean replied, but Castiel could see it wasn't a small cut. It bleed profusely and when he pulled on it, it gaped open, Castiel wouldn't be surprised if it reached all the way to the bone. Dean hissed when Castiel probed around it, but made no attempt to pull the hand away.

"Put it back under the water while I get the first aid kit. It is much deeper and we need to stop the bleeding and bandage it." Castiel said and ducked away to find what he needed. Mere seconds later he was pouring peroxide over Dean's finger, the man hissing, yet still not yanking his hand away. "You should see a doctor, see if it needs stitches and maybe get a tetanus shot." Castiel muttered as he pressed a gauze on the wound and quickly wrapped it as tight as he could.

When he looked up, those amazingly green eyes were looking at him with curiosity and something soft too, and Castiel maybe stared at them for a few moments too long before he caught himself and looked away, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. The heat intensified once he realized he was still holding Dean's hand in his, yet the man still made no attempt to yank it way. Castiel quickly pulled away and paused, wishing he knew what to say to break this bubble around them, but since no words would come, he just turned and went back to his vegetables. He could see in the corner of his eyes that Dean watched him for a few seconds before he went back to the meat.

After that, Castiel didn't allow himself another glance at the man for as long as he could. He even avoided looking at Dean when he handed him the ingredients. Dean thanked him and said nothing more and Castiel just nodded and went to clean his station.

Balthazar was there the entire time, but in a different section of the kitchen, so he didn't really see what happened. When he wandered back to them, he had two big buns, hot from the oven in his hands. "I didn't see either of you eat all day, so here..." he said and put the tray on a free counter. "I gotta get back to the last batch, how's the stew?"

"Should be done on time." Dean said and paused. Castiel couldn't be certain, but he thought he glanced his way before he added "Are you sure about these?"

"Yeah, with that generous donation I have enough to feed everyone for a month, maybe even more." Castiel heard Balthazar comment as he went back to his bread. He was confused, this was the first time he head about a donation. Sure, people donated stuff and supplies here and there, and the rest Balthazar got from the government and their funding. It was always a stretch, but they managed. Castiel wondered where the 'generous donation' came from, but didn't want to pry.

"Cas." Dean said to draw Castiel's attention. "You take these. I'm good." He said and nodded towards the still steaming buns.

"No, I... I'm good too." Castiel replied, not looking up at Dean.

"But you didn't eat anything since you got here." Dean protested.

"Neither did you." Castiel replied. Maybe he should have said he ate at home before he got there, but he was never good at lying. He didn't even know why he was so reluctant to take a bun, it wasn't that big of a deal. Or maybe it was? Maybe, in the light of what happened with Dean, maybe it did. Dean spent months feeding at the shelter when he didn't have to, and Castiel accused him of taking away from the people who needed it more, and in a way this seemed like he was doing the same. Dean was silent for a few minutes, after which he heard him let out a small sigh.

"If I take one, will you take the other?" Dean asked and Castiel finally looked up. "Please?" Those green eyes were so imploring, something tightened in Castiel's chest. There was no way he could say no to them. Without even realizing, he was already nodding and was rewarded with such a pleased, nearly elated expression and a spark in those stupidly green eyes. Castiel quickly grabbed one and ate it as fast as he could, wishing this whole thing to be over. He knew there was a pretty good chance his stomach would ache from eating hot dough so fast, but plates needed to be brought out and forks and cutlery and stuff and would Dean stop staring at him already?

Castiel finished his bun and picked up the first set of plates to take them out, glancing over at Meg who was still sulking outside, but at least talking to people. When she saw him, she rolled her eyes, but still came to help, saying she will set it all if Castiel brought everything out. When everything was set up, Dean came out with the pots of stew, while Balthazar and Castiel brought out the bread. Dinner was served with barely a bit of leftovers, and Balthazar assured them it would be okay if they finished it. After they cleaned up from the dinner, they gathered at the kitchen, Balthazar, Meg, Castiel and Dean and set around a small table to eat.

Something was definitely up between Dean and Meg and Castiel didn't like it one bit. She kept sending the man smug smiles and shifting in her seat and then Dean would shift too and Castiel wasn't sure what to make of it. Until Meg's leg brushed against his, probably by accident. Castiel yelped and backed away from the table, his irrational mind conjuring a snake under the table. If it wasn't for Dean and his reflexes, Castiel would have fallen backwards. The man's hand snapped up and grabbed Castiel's arm, steadying the chair and looking at him worriedly. Castiel just nodded his thanks and went back to his meal, but could still see the angry glare Dean gave Meg. She just rolled her eyes and kept her smug smile.

It was around 7 in the evening when they were all done and ready to head home. Balthazar complimented them all on good work they did and bid them a good night. Meg took off as soon as she could, and the people were slowly gathering in the big hall that had those camping stretch beds scatted all around. They were staring to settle in for the night and Castiel lingered a bit longer to make sure everyone got what they needed, even thought they all knew where they could find extra blankets or anything else. When he finally exited the shelter, he saw Dean awkwardly standing around, but seemed to collect himself when he spotted Castiel.

"Hey, um... Can... Can we... Can I walk you to your apartment?" Dean said and Castiel wasn't sure that was what he originally meant to say, but nodded either way. He had no idea why he did that, but Dean clearly wanted something, and a part of Castiel wanted to know what it was. Or just wanted to be around the guy. Or both. It felt so weird, having someone walk next to him, accompany him in silence. Weird, but not unpleasant. Not like it was the first time they walked this path on that wretched night. Castiel wished he could forget about it, forget it ever happened.

"You really okay with me working at Balth's shelter?" Dean asked, his voice careful and quiet. "Just that... You seemed wary of me." 

"I... I am not very good with people." Castiel replied in an even quieter tone, not answering Dean's previous question. Truth was, he didn't know himself. Aside from the fact that it really was good to have another person to help out, Castiel felt torn, because he felt drawn to Dean and at the same time scared of what it meant.

"Oh. Not very social, huh?"

"No."

"Okay, I can understand that."

They walked the rest of the way in silence and again, it didn't feel as uncomfortable as it should. It... It almost felt nice. Still, Castiel couldn't help but wonder what Dean was looking to get out of this. When they reached his building, Castiel turned to face Dean and wondering if he should just wish him goodnight and leave. But Dean decided to say something, and Castiel was so curious of what it was, he paused to listen.

"Can I... Are you gonna come to the shelter tommorow too?" That wasn't what Dean was going to ask, Castiel was sure of it. Dean was going to ask if he could see him again.

"I... I might." Castiel answered carefully.

"I'll be there... Just so you know..." Dean said looking down at the ground, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous. It was... It was definitely one of the things that drew Castiel to Dean. Nobody ever felt nervous around him. They were always a lot more composed or cooler when highschool was in question.

"Alright." Castiel said, not sure what else he could add, before he remembered. "Good night. Dean." A small smile spread across Dean's face and his eyes shone brighter, making all.sorts of emotions swirl inside Castiel.

"Good night, Cas."

Castiel would spend a good chunk of his night thinking about Dean, starting with his smile and his piercing eyes. He was curious about him, wondered if Dean chose that shelter just because he wanted to see Castiel. Wondered what happened between him and Meg, or if he was the one to give that generous donation Balthazar mentioned. 

But then Castiel remembered. He remembered why he was at the shelter today in the first place. Remembered about being out of job and having lost his novel. He berated himself for getting carried away like that, for allowing himself to forget his problems and just daydream about a man who couldn't really be interested in Castiel, not like that. A man Castiel wasn't even sure he wanted to be interested in him. A man...

Ugh. 

It was almost one in the morning and Castiel's thoughts always seemed to circle back to Dean, and he didn't like it. The man hurt him, he made himself to be something he was not. He deceived Castiel and lied to him and betrayed his trust.

Yet Castiel still fell asleep thinking about him.

* * *

It was raining when Castiel finally got out of his bed and took a look outside. It seemed like it was going to be a gloomy, cloudy day and Castiel felt depressed accordingly. Still, he knew what he needed to do, and he knew it couldn't wait so quickly ate a banana he had in his fridge, put on some clothes and headed outside.

It was pouring and the umbrella he had wasn't helping much in keeping him dry, but at least he wasn't soaking wet once he got to Crossroads Publication Inc. He still didn't want to work for them, he especially didn't want them to publish his novel using Dean's article, but he didn't really have a choice. Maybe he could just talk to Mr. Crowley and express his wishes regarding the novel? Could he just go back to the way it was?

Ruby was a as cheerful as always, barely sparing Castiel a glance as she checked if Mr. Crowley was interested in seeing him, chewing that gum obnoxiously. Thankfully, Mr. Crowley seems to agree, so she just nudged her head in the direction of Crowley's office and picked up her magazine.

"Ah, Castiel, darling. Long time..." Mr. Crowley said as he motioned for Castiel to take a seat.

"Good morning Mr. Crowley." Castiel said as he took the offered seat, the chair feeling really stiff and uncomfortable, and somehow Castiel thought it was the point. Crowley had a special section of his office reserved for important clients, and Castiel certainly wasn't important.

"What can I do for you?" Mr. Crowley didn't really like to make small talk, he was the kind of a man who liked to get straight to the business.

"Well, you see... I, um..."

"Speak up, mate. I am a very busy man, I don't have all day."

"Yes, right. I apologize. It's just that... When Mr. Kipling came and took my laptop, I had personal information on it and I would like an opportunity to retrieve it..." Castiel started, but Mr. Crowley quickly cut him off.

"I am afraid that isn't possible, all returned equipment gets swiped clean after it had been checked for any saved work regarding our manuscripts. But maybe someone copied your information, I can check." Mr. Crowley said, and Castiel felt his heart stammering in his chest. Was it possible, was his novel really gone? "What sort of information are taking about?" Mr. Crowley asked with a raised brow.

"My... My novel." Castiel replied and watched as Mr. Crowley's eyes shot up to his hairline. 

"Oh. Please don't tell me this was the only copy you had?" He asked and Castiel hated that look in his eyes.

"It... It was."

"Oh, how unfortunate. I will ask Mr. Kipling about it as soon as he gets in." 

"And if... If it wasn't deleted, will you... Will you give it back?" Castiel asked.

"Of course, what kind of a man do you take me for?" Mr. Crowley sounded appalled. "If we happen to find it, we will give it back. I certainly wouldn't publish it under my own name, or anything of the sorts. Besides..." Mr. Crowley said and leaned in, his voice much more quiet and sinister then it was seconds ago. "...I would most certainly try to persuade you to allow us to publish it under your name. If a let's say... Fergus McCloud, a Irish nobody published it, it wouldn't sell nearly as good as it would if it was published by Castiel, the angel of Kansas City. Publicity is everything, darling."

Castiel wasn't sure if Mr. Crowley didn't already have a copy of his novel and was trying to blackmail him into publishing it in this manner, but he couldn't say anything about it. Even if he wanted to sue them or anything, he couldn't even prove they had a copy, and as long as they didn't publish it, he couldn't sue them for the theft of intellectual property. Even if he had the money for that.

"It was brought to my attention, however, that you did manage to edit a few chapters of Miss Rosen's monstrosity, so we do owe you payment for that. Here..." He said as he scribbled down something on a piece of paper. "Give this to Ruby and she will make sure you get your due." He handed the paper to Castiel and then grinned.

"See? We're not the bad guys. We care about our employees. Or former employees." Mr. Crowley said, but Castiel still couldn't shake the feeling as if he was being manipulated. However, it seemed as if Mr. Crowley was done talking and done with this meeting, so Castiel just nodded and said his goodbyes. As Ruby counted the cash she was going to give him, Castiel really thought hard about his options. He was sure if he decided to publish, Mr. Crowley would put him in the spotlight along with that act of kindness that was nothing but a ruse on Dean's part. He would even drag Dean into all of it, and Castiel couldn't let that happen. He couldn't use Dean like that, no matter how much the man deserved it.

Castiel really wished his step-brother was there, he would offer advice. What would Gabriel say? Gabriel wouldn't say anything, he would probably go and beat the shit out of Crowley and find his novel and bring it back, maybe even find Castiel a new job. But Castiel didn't like to depend on him in any way, that's why he never accepted anything Gabriel offered. Maybe he should talk to Dean, ask what he thought? Maybe Dean would even want to help?

No, Castiel wouldn't take his help. He wouldn't want Dean involved in any way, because Dean betrayed him, made him look like a fool and Castiel wasn't about to go advertise that.

That did not explain how he found himself in front of the shelter now, having walked a few dozen blocks to it in his daze. He didn't even notice that the rain stopped and that the sun was now peeking through the dark clouds.

While he was there, he might as well check to see if they needed any help. Balthazar said Alfie had a big exam today, but would be done with it by noon, so he was there to along with Meg and Balthazar. And Dean. And there were always other people, homeless people willing to pitch in if needed. But it wouldn't hurt to check and see if they still needed him.

It always felt good, felt gratifying to work here, Castiel always felt like what he did here mattered. The work here always distracted him from his own troubles and made him feel fulfilled. And that's why he decided to come in today.

No other reason at all.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean felt so determined that night when he left Castiel's front door, determined to show Castiel that he was sorry and to prove to him he didn't mean to be a jackass. He needed to take responsibility for his actions and he needed to start thinking things through.

_"Don't say that. Everyone deserves a chance."_ Castiel told him over the intercom. Bet he wouldn't have said it if he knew Dean was on the other side. Truth was, Dean really didn't feel like he deserved a second chance, but was willing to earn it. So when he got home that night, he called his best friend, hoping she would help him out.

Charlie sat on his couch and listened as Dean explained, retelling the whole event, from the moment he caught the end of Castiel's conversation with his brother to meeting Castiel as himself in that shelter again.

There was a contemplating look on her face, with her brows furrowed and her lips pinched tight as she carefully inspected Dean's expression. In the end she agreed to help and together the came up with a game plan.

The next day, bright and early, Dean was back in the shelter. Some of the people watched him with wary eyes, but none seem to have recognized him, not as Dean the writer, not as Dean, the homeless guy. He didn't really want to lie to them, but he knew it wouldn't be wise to uncover that he had tricked them. The little kid, Alfie was there, setting everything up for the incoming breakfast.

"Hey, A..." Dean started but stopped talking as the kid startled at the sound of his voice.

"Oh, hello, sir. How can I help you?" Alfie quickly regained his composure and was so cute doing so, trying to be professional. Dean just had to smile, knowing that Alfie was a great kid, helpful and kind, and it reflected in his eyes.

"I am looking for Balthazar Edwards?" Dean asked and could see the kid take a deep breath eying him curiously.

"You're not one of the suits, right?" The kid asked and Dean cracked a smile. Surprise inspections and visits from a government officials was a common thing, but not really welcomed as they always seemed to find something lacking and they never knew what might happen to make them shut the place down.

"No, not a suit. I'm just... Just wanted to talk to Balth, see if he needs some help. Is he around?" Dean asked and Alfie perked up, smiling widely before saying he would go get him. It wasn't a surprise to see a frown form on Balth's face as he laid his eyes on Dean, and Dean had a gut-wrenching feeling he might not be able to overcome not even the first obstacle in his long road. Balth looked around then told Dean to follow him inside so that they could talk. They entered the kitchen and Balth went right back to work on his dough, telling Dean he was listening.

"I take it you know who I am?" Dean offered first, but Balth said nothing, only nodded. "I wanted... I wanted to ask if you would, um... consider... letting me help around?" Dean tried. He wasn't really much of a formal talker, he liked to keep things simple, but he could do it when the opportunity required it. He wouldn't be a good writer otherwise. Balth eyed him for a few moments, frowning.

"I am not sure I should..." He finally replied.

"I know. I know. I fucked up. But I want to fix it, I just need a chance." Smooth talker. But he did sound a lot more honest and a little less uptight, and Balthazar seemed to appreciate this approach more. He sighed and seemed to consider pros and cons of agreeing to this. "Look, I'll do any job you want me to, and I'll... I'll scrub toilets and take out the trash and wash the dishes and anything you need me to, alright? You gotta let me try and fix this. Please." It wasn't really the plan, Dean was supposed to make it seem like the shelter could use another set of hands, not beg Balth, but he just became a bit desperate that the man would say no.

"Can... Can you cook?"

"Yes. Yes, I can make awesome..."

"We don't need any awesome meals. Sure, we don't make tasteless blobs, but here we focus more on the quantity then the quality. Making sure everyone gets a serving..." Balthazar said and Dean took a deep breath and nodded his understanding. "Gabriel is out of country and Cas... Hasn't come around for a few days, so I am a bit short-staffed right now. I need someone in the kitchen preparing the meals, but also someone to help distributed supplies and run smaller errands..." Balthazar trailed off and focused on Dean again. His eyes scanned the man once more then continues with a sigh. "I hope I don't regret this..."

"You won't. I promise." Dean said with a wide smile and such a grateful expression on his face.

"When can you start?"

"Now?"

"Seriously?" Balth was amazed at the sudden enthusiasm. His phone dinged, indicating a text message, and Balth pulled it out of his pocket to see.

"Just tell me what you want me to do..." Dean started but was cut off by Balthazar, who was looking a bit pale.

"Did you do this?"

"Did what?" Dean asked, not sure what he was talking about.

"A few minutes ago half a million dollars were deposited on our bank account by a organization called Leviosa Win Gardium." Balthazar replied and Dean's brows shot up. That was a lot of cash, but then that name... It struck him and he knew exactly who it was. But how did Charlie get her hands on so much money? Why put up a fake organization? He would discover later that night that Charlie moonlighted as a hacker and was playing a modern day Robin Hood, stealing a few pennies from the rich, pooling it all into her fake bank account and then distribute it all where cash was needed.

"That wasn't me." Dean replied and almost corrected Balthazar by saying it was Leviosa, not Leviosaaaa, that the accent was on the o and not the a, but he stopped himself in time. He didn't want to hide anything from Balth or lie, but he had to talk to Charlie about it all first.

"I... I need to look into this, I need to... To... To contact our lawyer, see if this is... Legit..." Balthazar's voice was still filled with shock.

"I got you covered, just tell me where you need me." Dean offered and Balthazar looked back at him, nodded and lead him outside, back to Alfie. He told the kid to show Dean around and that he had to check a few things, and that he is leaving Alfie in charge. It wasn't the first time he did that, but it was a rarely new thing and the kid would always perk up at the given chance to prove himself.

Dean spent the whole day, trailing after Alfie and doing whatever the kid told him to. Together they started making preparations for the late lunch for the shelter, surprising Balthazar who got held up. Meg came in late and didn't do much but stare silently at Dean. Sure she helped when someone asked her about supplies, but she would always roll her eyes and make people around her uncomfortable, so Dean pitched in when Balthazar took over the lunch.

By the time Dean got home late that night, he felt exhausted, but a lot better then he felt in days. The only thing that still ate him up was the lack of a certain set of blue eyes.

* * *

The second day Dean came bright and early and Balthazar just raised a brow at that before he instructed him to hang back in the shelter and handle the supplies along with Meg. Dean had seen her around, and she was always... Annoyed and irritable. She would snap at people or ignore them, acting as if she was better then them. Dean knew she was court-ordered to be there, but he knew she wasn't a bad person in general, just and a bit of a tough luck and was swept off her feet by some jackass criminal who was more interested in using her.

She did stare at him a lot yesterday, and today she decided to approach and talk to him. "I know who you are..." She sang the words and gave Dean a quick one-brow flicker, followed by a one-sided smile.

"Good for you." He replied, no malice in his voice. He knew some of the homeless might resent him for what he did, but he didn't really make any friends before, and didn't have much contact with the same person more then once or twice, asking random questions for his article.

"Would be a damn shame if the people around found out..." She teased and Dean finally focused on her. He took a deep breath, let it out and allowed the tension to leave his body. No reason to get worked up about this. People would figure it out anyway, and Dean wasn't about to allow Meg to blackmail him.

"Whatever you want, forget it. If they find out, I will deal with it. If they hate me for it, they hate me." _I would deserve it too._ "Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do." He said and turned towards the laundry room. She followed him in, and closed the door behind her. He turned to face her, frowning. "What are you doing?"

"What? You can fuck for food and a bed, but not for free?" Meg replied as she stalked closer. Dean backed away, his ass hitting the washer, but Meg still crowed him. She drew her body flush against his and Dean's hands shot up to her hips in an attempt to keep her away from him. Naturally, she misinterpreted his actions and leaned in for a kiss. He dodged her and pushed her away.

"Castiel and I didn't fuck, but even if we did, that's none of your business. And this? This isn't happening, okay. So back off." Dean said and moved around her to the door.

"What? I don't have another limb between my legs, is that the problem?" She tried and coming up to lean on the door so that Dean couldn't open them. She slid down them just a little bit, making her hair raise up and going for that sexy look, complete with a bite on her lower lip.

"No. I'm just not attracted to you." Dean replied. He wanted to push her off the door, but she might mistake his action for something else, so he decided to use his words. "Now, please move."

"Oh, come on... Don't you want to blow off some steam? Don't you wanna..." Meg said reaching forward, her fingers walking up Dean's chest. She flattened her hand and let her palm caress all the way down his stomach. "... Bend me over that dryer? You can even pretend it's a guy?"

Dean grabbed her hand before it went south and shoved it away. "No." He said in a tone that said he was done playing around. Meg rolled her eyes, and moved away so that he could open the door. Just as he was about to exit the room, she grabbed his ass and squeezed hard, making Dean yelp in surprise. His scolding gaze met her teasing one as she walked past him.

"Guess we know who the bottom was." Meg threw back and Dean clenched his jaw tight, stopping himself from getting into an argument with her. Best leave her be.

The rest of the day he spent helping Alfie with the laundry and trying to avoid Meg. He ran into her once in the storage room, but quickly ducked away before she could corner him there too. Dean was a pretty straight-forward guy (even if he swung both ways), and he would make sure someone got the message, but Meg was just... Difficult. Or bored. So it was easier to try and deflect her then to confront her again.

Before she left, Meg blew him a kiss and laugh at his attempt to hide his disgusted face. But when he got home, once again exhausted, but feeling more productive that he had in years, he forgot all about Meg and pondered where Cas was. Since he hadn't been in the shelter for over a week now, Dean feared he might never come back again.

* * *

Dean ran a little late on the third day. Naomi called him and grilled him for the topic of his next article, and he pretended it was a secret, but the truth was, he didn't have the slightest idea what to write. In fact, he had no desire to write at all. Still she let him off the hook for now, and Dean knew it was because of the success of his previous work. It took him a month to come up with it, and three months of research, but in the end, his article had so much effect on the issue he presented, and a great circulation for the newspapers, that Naomi gave him a break.

He called Charlie and gave her a not-so-enthusiastic update, not because the work itself wasn't fulfilling, but because he wanted to see those blue eyes again.

He was however lucky today and Castiel showed up just after breakfast. Dean felt so happy and overwhelmed that he almost ran to the man and hugged him, but the expression on Castiel's face stopped him. There were no bad emotions in his eyes, just surprise. Balth walked in their line of sight, breaking it, and Dean just... Ran.

Most of the day he tried to keep his breathing and his hammering heart in check as he caught glimpses of the man. He was just as Dean remembered him, his hair tousled, his eyes serious, but kind when looking at others and with a hint of shyness and curiosity when he would look back at Dean.

Dean figured he should try and apologize face to face, but soon realized Cas didn't want to be reminded of that night, so instead, he made sure Cas didn't mind him helping out at the shelter. It was a rather nice save of the situation.

It was about three hours later that Dean saw him again and couldn't stop glancing at the man, filling strangely giddy that Cas was 'asighed' to help him with the stew. It was the first time Dean was tasked with such an important thing and he really wanted to prove himself. He felt like such a klutz when he cut his finger, like a damn amateur, but it made Castiel's caring side come to the surface and made him come closer. It was silly, the way Cas grabbed his hand to inspect the cut and Dean just wanted to feel his touch for as long as possible. Cas fussed over his hand and the whole time, Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from him.

Truth was, Dean had been sneaking glances at the man ever since he first visited the shelter as a homeless man, coming to that particular shelter more often then any others, not that there were all that many to begin with. There was just something about Cas that drew him towards the man and made him want to be close, maybe even the center of his attention. Dean had recognized that wouldn't be a good thing for him right now, so he tried to stay away. Until that night.

It was a bold move, asking Cas to let Dean accompany him home. But at least they talked a bit and he learned that maybe, Cas wasn't wary of him, just a bit asocial, and he hoped that Cas didn't lie when he confirmed that he didn't mind Dean working at the shelter.

That night Dean didn't fall asleep for a long time, just kept thinking about Cas, going over every little detail he knew about the man and excited for a chance to learn more.

* * *

It was pouring the next day. And Cas didn't come for breakfast. But that was okay, there was still a chance he would come later. When Dean asked him last night if he would come in today, Cas did say maybe, and no matter how excited about seeing him Dean was, that didn't mean he would get to.

It was a bit busy, but Dean remembered Fridays mostly were, even if he never figured out the exact reason. Maybe the people were trying to get by during the week days and by Friday they would do all they could, considering a lot of government sectors or banks didn't work on Saturday.

Dean helped put up a tent by the door above their serving table, since it rained they couldn't have the people eat outside, so they let them carry in the dishes into the sleeping hall. There was a lack of space and it was just easier to organize meals on the large tables outside when the weather permitted, or let the people eat on tent beds when it rained or snowed, or was too cold to stay outside. Days were getting colder and Dean wondered how they managed during the winter.

After breakfast was done, Dean took over the washing duty and Alfie helped, while Balth and Meg went about the rest of the chores. Alfie kept getting texts on his old-looking phone and kept sheepishly glancing at them and trying to text back, but not wanting to stall with his task.

"Is it someone you like?" Dean asked with a small smile and Alfie blushed like crazy, looking unbelievably adorable.

"Yeah... A girl. Claire. She's hot. I mean... No... She... She is one of the popular girls, but she isn't... She isn't mean like the rest... And I... I dunno. I like her." Alfie fessed up too easily.

"Why don't you take a break and she what she's up to? I got this covered." Dean offered and Alfie wasn't sure he should accept. "Go on. If anyone asks, I'll just tell them you're in the john." Alfie made a disgusted face, but with a smile he tried to tone down, unsuccessfully. He nodded and in the next second, Dean was alone. Not that he minded, Alfie was just a kid, he deserved to have some free time.

"Hello, Dean." A deep voice spoke from the door, startling Dean so much that he dropped the plate into the sink. He didn't break it, but the drop caused the water to splash and some of it, somehow ended up in Dean's eye. He hissed and on instinct went to rub his eye, feeling the soap burning. The voice spoke again, this time a lot closer and Dean was pretty sure that the blur before him was actually Cas.

"Are you alright?" Fuck, that was embarrassing. But Dean forgot all about it as Cas' hands came up and grabbed Dean's, stopping him from rubbing his eyes. The touch was electrifying, but his eyes still burnt. "Blink. The protective barrier in the eyes should produce tears that will help extract the soap from your eyes." In other words, cry Dean.

"Ah..." Dean breathed out as he did what he was told, feeling his eyes gathering tears that spilled with ease. He must look ridiculous, red-eyed and crying and oh, great, now his nose was running.

"Better?" Cas asked, reaching out to cup Dean's face and tilt it so that he could gaze into his eyes as if he could see the soap and make sure all of it came out. Not that Dean minded the touch. He barely held himself from leaning into it.

"Better. Thanks." Dean said with a smile. He still couldn't see straight, and Cas was still one big blur, but he was there.

"You should take a brake for a few minutes, I'll finish the dishes."

"Nah, it's fine, I got it. There is only like three plates left." Dean said and started blindly feeling around the sink. There was a sigh of amusement probably coming from Castiel, the sound making warmth spread inside Dean's chest. "Alright, maybe it would be better if you finish these... I am not sure I would wash them properly." Dean huffed and found the chair that was nearest. He felt like an idiot, just sitting there and blinking, trying hard not to rub his eyes, but soon enough his vision cleared and he could see Cas move around. Dean was normally a charmer, and always knew what to say, but he found himself tongue-tied. Luckily, someone called out to them from the outside. The rain stopped and the sun was out.

"What's up, Balth?" He asked as both he and Cas walked up to him, standing in front of a big movers truck. Balthazar was looking over some papers, a bunch of them, his eyes slightly widened and a very suprised look on his face.

"We... we got a delivery. I, um..." Balth started but trailed off just as the driver of the truck came around. He was an older guy, short, with grey hair, glasses and a nametag that said 'Frank'.

"Alright, listen up!" The driver shout out. "I got a bad back, and my contracts says I am a driver, not an unloader, so you want this stuff, you gotta carry it out yourselves, capiche? Now, get a move on, come on..." He shouted as he opened the back door to a truck filled with boxes. "I got a nearly four dozen boxes, and I gotta be outta here in thirty, so chop, chop."

They started unloading and carrying the boxes inside, since it was still wet from the rain, and arranging them in the small space of the storage room at first, then in the hallways. There was a total of 46 boxes, some smaller, but mostly standard moving boxes. Once it was all done, Dean asked Balth what was in them.

"Donations, apparently. We never got this many, though, I am... Beyond words." Balthazar said as he looked over the mess around the place. He opened the closest box and took a look at it's contents. He huffed a smile as he showed the others - there were a few cans of food, a can opener, three spoons, a thin blanket, six soap bars, two old, but still fluffy towels, toilet paper, two tooth brushes and three drawings, clearly made by kids. "There is so much stuff here..." Balth was clearly overwhelmed by it all.

"I can help sort them out after lunch, if you want." Dean offered. He knew Balthazar had another appointment later today regarding some investors who were looking to help expand the shelter. It seemed as though Dean's article helped raised awareness and made people move and take action.

"Are you sure? It is Friday." Balth asked, moved by the offer, but wanted to make sure it didn't interfere with Dean's plans. In such a short time Dean had become a part of their little family, but Balthazar didn't want to keep him away from his private life.

"I didn't make any plans, so it's cool." Dean said with a small smile.

"I can stay and help too." Cas offered and Dean looked back at him, his smile wanting to expand into a wide grin. He barely held it back, trying to breathe thought it all and force himself to relax.

"Only if you're both sure. You don't have to finish it all today, there is time." Balthazar offered.

"Whatever we don't finish today, we can pick up tomorrow, or, I can, if Cas has plans..." Dean offered, trying to hide the giddiness in his voice. He couldn't contain his smile when Cas said he was free. This meant that Dean would get to spent a whole evening with the man, and most of the Saturday too, working together side by side. There was no better way to spend the weekend than that.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel didn't know what to think. Not of Dean nor of the situation he had found himself in, but rather of why... Why did he let himself get this carried away? He knew better then to go down this road, yet there he was, entering the dark forest of the unknown, carrying a little basket and humming carefree while the big bad wolf was hiding in the shadows.

He mentally groaned at his own stupid thoughts. Yes, he felt a strange pull when it came to Dean and his oh! so green eyes, but he wasn't being bewitched into wishing to be closer to the man. He was just... Lonely. And Dean seemed like he wanted to be his friend, so why not give it a go, right?

 _Maybe because he hurt you? Lied to you from the moment you met?_ \- his brain helpfully supplied.

But he said he was sorry, he apologized and he... He was trying to redeem himself, he repented of his actions. And if he set aside the fact that Dean li... deceived him, and just focused on Dean and who he was as a person... He was interesting. He read some of the same books Castiel did and shared his opinion on the plots and characters, though Dean was a bit more enthusiastic. Actually, he was generally more enthusiastic, lively about everything. He was just so positive and easy-going and the kind of person whose smile would light up the room. That was probably why Castiel felt drawn - like a moth to a flame.

He couldn't stop glancing at him as he dried the dishes Dean washed, but he tried to focus on Dean's hands instead on his face, so as not to be caught looking. His hands didn't look too soft, like they were maintained, but they weren't too rough either, and were generally manly without the excess hair. All in all very nice hands. For some strange reason Castiel noticed them even back then, in his apartment, when Dean... Stayed over. His eyes would wander towards the man's hands when Castiel handed him clothes or passed the plate of food, a small thrill going through his system if their fingers brushed.

"You know... You don't have to stay and go through the boxes, if you have something planned, or you know... Whatever..." Dean said snapping Castiel out of his thoughts and it took him a moment to figure out what Dean was saying.

"I didn't make any plans." Castiel answered and wondered for a moment if this was Dean giving him an out or maybe that the man didn't want him around, close? If that was the case, he wouldn't have chosen this shelter and he wouldn't have asked Castiel if he would come to the shelter today, would he?

"Oh." Dean replied sounding as if he didn't expect that and Castiel blushed slightly. Did Dean think he was the kind of a person with loads of friends and weekend plans? "Well, uh, guess with you staying here then, it could be considered as plans, right?" Dean offered as if he could read Castiel's slight embarrassment. And strangely, it did make him feel better. Yeah. It was Friday and he had plans. Plans that involved sorting through boxes and boxes of stuff, but it beat staying at home alone and reading. At least here, he won't be alone. He would be with Dean. Huh...

"So, how you wanna do this?" Dean said wiping his hands in a kitchen towel, turning bodily towards Castiel. His piercing eyes made contact, so green and vibrant and filled with life. Wait, what? Do what? Castiel lost touch with reality there for a second, but luckily Dean kept talking, breaking the eye contact to put the towel down. "I was thinking we could store everything where it is supposed to go and with the excess stuff, we could use the boxes and sort it among them. You know - toilet paper in one box, soap in other and so on... What do you think?" The look in his eyes morphed into something with a bit of hope and Castiel didn't understand why it was so for a moment until it hit him - Dean was asking what he thought, if he liked his suggestion. He was hoping for an approval. He was hoping Castiel would like his suggestion.

"That sounds like a good idea." Castiel heard himself respond. He wanted to sound more enthusiastic, or at least give Dean a better praise, a nicer compliment instead of a plan, stupid 'that's fine'. He wanted to try and talk more, sound friendly, make small talk, be normal. So as they started walking towards the storage rooms, Castiel forced himself to ask "You, um... You don't have any plans for tonight either?"

The moment he asked, he felt as if the question might have been too personal, but then again, Dean asked him the same, so it must be fine. Besides, he really wanted to know more about Dean, and maybe even find out if he had a special someone waiting for him. Not that it really mattered, Dean couldn't possibly be interested in a guy like Castiel even if he was by any chance interested in men. Which Castiel didn't know if he was. What if he was?

"Nah. Nothing important. I was supposed to met a friend at Sidekicks saloon, but we could always get together tomorrow night. Or next weekend, she'll understand." Dean replied.

"She must be a very good friend..." Castiel started, somehow saddened by the fact that she might be more then a friend, when suddenly, his brain made the connection, and he blurted out "Wait, isn't that a gay bar?"

"Please don't tell me you have something against..."

"No! No, I just... I'm surprised."

"Why?" Dean asked with genuine curiosity. Castiel half expected him to be angry or defensive, because of his reaction. Castiel wanted to avoid any misunderstandings, so he took a deep breath and started to open up, much more then he normally would.

"Please, don't take this the wrong way. I have absolutely nothing against any type of sexuality, I... I am... I am homosexual myself. But I... I am not used to having it discussed so openly, and... That is what I found surprising, that you would just say it like that. I am not judgmental, I... I apologize..." Castiel spoke, stuttering and lowering his voice with every said word, realizing he just told Dean he was gay without even a second thought of how the man might react. Considering how things ended up between him and Daphne, one would think he would be a bit more careful and not wanting to face great humiliation like he did back then.

"It's okay, man. I get it. I don't really go advertising I'm bi, either. Charlie just likes that club because of their margaritas and she finds the crowd interesting. She is always dragging me to go there and be her wing man, and believe me that is way better than when she tries to be mine... She ends up scaring everyone away." Dean talked smiling, so carefree and uncaring, and it just swept Castiel away. He could listen to him talk all day... Wait, did Dean just say...

"Well... Let's get started. Wanna take a box each and see what's in them?" Dean said, and looked at Castiel with his green eyes, making the man loose all train of thought for a moment. As Dean's words replayed in Castiel's mind, he nodded and picked a box.

A few minutes later, he had hygiene supplies on one side, and the canned food on the other, while inside the box, he left two blankets. He glanced at Dean who seemed to have a similar idea, only since he seemed to have a bit more cans, he left those in the box.

"Um... Maybe..." He started, but startled when Dean turned to look at him. He had to clear his throat before he continued. "Maybe we could put the cans in one box and when it is full, take it to the kitchen?" He offered, and it sounded kind of stupid to him. Because that was basically Dean's idea from before, but that idea was for the supplies that were excess, not of the stuff that needed to be distributed around the shelter, like cans in the kitchen and blankets in the closet.

Castiel's brain groaned at him, but luckily Dean smiled so widely, Castiel felt overjoyed seeing it once more.

"Trade you my toilet paper for your can of beans?" He said and Castiel just had to reciprocate the smile. It was just so easy, being around Dean. The man had a knack for making Castiel feel good about himself and for lighting up the mood. His smile was so contagious sometimes.

All those things should scare a person like Castiel, but somehow they had an opposite effect, they made him want to act, made him want to open up and be as cheery and happy as Dean.

"My soap for a few cans of peaches?" Dean said next and Castiel huffed a laugh as he passed him the requested items and took over the soap. Soon they had enough in each box, so Dean said he would take the cans to the kitchen and would come back for the toiletries, so Castiel nodded and went back to work. When Dean returned to crack open the next box, they exchanged smiles and just dug right in.

It was around the 12th box that things started to get strange. Not because of Dean, but because if the things they started finding in the boxes. A few random items here and there, like spoons, scrunchies, pens, children's drawings, those were regular. But then they got to their first weird item.

"I am not sure what this thing even is." Castiel said eying the strange tube and turing it around as if he might be able to figure out what it's purpose was. Dean huffed a laugh when he saw what Castiel was holding.

"It's a bong, Cas."

"What's a bong?"

"You... You seriously don't know? You never saw, when in the movies, they... You know what, nevermind. It is used for smoking marijuana. We should probably throw it away." Dean replied. Castiel frowned down at the item in his hands, looking it over and trying to figure out how it was used.

"I think my downstairs neighbor uses these." He suddenly blurted out. He looked at Dean who gave him a confused look, making him blush, but feeling the urge to explain. "I had a friend in college who smoked and whenever I see my neighbor, I pick up the same smell, I am guessing it is marijuana. And I think I saw something similar in his apartment when I went to his place to ask for my measuring cup back."

"He didn't offer you any brownies, did he?" Dean asked and Castiel laughed. Of course he knew Dean was alluding to hashish brownies, but he was too embarrassed to say he already tried those back in college.

They decided to throw the bong away, setting it in the box marked Garbage. A few more oddities found their way into the boxes, like a zipper head, an eraser, a box of toothpicks, and the absolute winner - a small butterfly collection. Dean thought that one was a keeper and Castiel agreed.

There were also useful things they didn't expect to find - like a few good pots, three Swiss army knives and super glue. They also found clothes and shoes, some of those almost new.

Once again, Castiel was the lucky one to find something weird. "What is this?" He asked looking over a sort of a tube with a small hose attached to it and a little pump, like the one you would see when a nurse took your blood pressure.

"That, Cas... Is a dick pump."

"Ewwwwww..." Castiel shouted out as he threw the item away from himself, and somehow managing to catapult it straight into the Garbage box. Dean tried to hide his laughter as Castiel ran past him and into the bathroom to wash his hands.

"Sorry." Dean sympathized with a small comforting smile on his face. "You know, we are almost halfway through this, maybe we can call it a day and start fresh tomorrow?" He offered after Castiel went to run his hand over his face, then realized that hand touched the penis pump, making a disgusted face at his own hand.

"Yes, I think that would be wise." Castiel replied still staring at his hand, and it wasn't until Dean picked up the last box of cans to take to the kitchen that he snapped out of it. "I'll take the blankets and pillows to the closet." He did as he said, then came back for the last box filled with toiletries, only to find Dean picking it up. The man gave him another small smile before turning to put the box away. Castiel found himself easily returning the smile, something he wouldn't have done before and as much as that fact was confounding, it wasn't unpleasant at all.

They tidied up a bit, then locked up that section of the shelter as Balthazar instructed them. They checked the people staying at the shelter, but most of them were already asleep, so they just left them be and headed out the door. Outside, Dean paused, for some reason looking adorably embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Can... Can I walk you home?"

"I don't know, can you?" Castiel shot out, surprising the shit out of himself for being so bold, instantly going wide-eyed and pale. But Dean laughed and all his fears and discomfort just washed away with that sound.

" _May_ I?" Dean asked still smiling and Castiel found himself smiling back and feeling lighter then ever before.

"You may."

So they started walking, Dean throwing glances at Castiel, and he noticed, but chose not to say anything or even look back until they reached Castiel's apartment building. "So I um... I guess I'll see you tomorrow, huh?" Dean asked, and Castiel felt a bit playful, so he decided to answer with a hint of tease in his voice.

"Maybe."

It was worth it to see more of that radiant smile of Dean's and that spark in his green eyes. It wasn't until much later, when Castiel laid in bed, that he started to doubt his actions and question his every move and every spoken word. Being around Dean, the man made everything seem so easy, and now that he wasn't with him, his old fears and light phobias started to creep back in. More nightmares followed that evening, but not nearly as intense as they can be, and Castiel wondered if it had anything to do with Dean, even if a part of him knew that it did.

* * *

When Castiel walked into the shelter that morning, he found Dean in the kitchen, standing over the stove. "Hello, Dean."

"Jesus Christ! Cas! You scared the shit out of me!" Dean said as he whipped around, taking his eyes of the pot of boiling eggs. As he turned, he unintentionally brought his hand closer to the pot and as the water bubbled, it splashed around, a few drops landing on his hand. Dean immediately withdrew it, hissing and Castiel was next to him in a second, a worried expression on his face, mixed with some guilt.

"It's just a few drops, it's fine." Dean said smiling as Castiel inspected his hand. There were a few red spots on the skin, clearly nothing life threatening, and as Castiel looked up at Dean and saw the smile, he froze, letting Dean's hand drop from his. Shame washed over him, not just because of the fact that Dean got burnt cause of him, but also because of the way he was acting. He had no business taking and holding Dean's hand like this.

"Well, if it isn't two of my favorite helpers." Balthazar said as he and Alfie carried in a large tray of cooked ham. Castiel gave him a questioning gaze, they normally served oatmeal for breakfast, it was nutritious enough and cheep enough to work in favor of quantity over quality. Since Balthazar offered no explanation, Castiel figured it was a donation by a random restaurant (it happened on occasion), he doubted Balthazar would spend more money then necessary. "Meg just arrived too. If you want, you can get cracking on those boxes, we can get the breakfast covered. That way, you would be out sooner, have the Saturday night off..." Balthazar offered.

"I ain't got any plans, but if you are sure you don't need me for breakfast, I can dive right back in." Dean replied.

"Me too." Castiel added, and after Balthazar nodded, both of them retired to the back rooms, to the storage. They worked silently for an hour, picking up where they left off yesterday. It wasn't until Dean took away their first box of cans and unperishable food to the kitchen and came back with two bottles of water that they finally exchanged words. "Thanks." Castiel said as Dean handed him one.

"Balth says the breakfast is almost done and once they finish serving, we could have whatever there is left. I already ate this morning, but even I can't say no to ham and egg sandwich." Dean said and Castiel just nodded. He could eat too. Dean kept looking at him as if he was waiting for Castiel to say something and when he didn't, Dean kept talking. "My brother says I am weird, but I like mayo with boiled eggs. You think that's weird?"

"No. I find that mayonnaise helps diminish the dryness of the cooked yolk." Castiel replied, not stopping his sorting. Dean went back to working on another box, but didn't stop making small talk.

"I know, right? I mean, it's not like I put mayo on a pizza."

"Ketchup is for pizzas." Castiel replied.

"Exactly! Thank you! He calls me weird, yet he is the one that puts sea food on pizza or pineapple, ugh!" Dean replied and laughed at Castiel's disgusted face.

"Must be nice. To have a brother."

"Has his good and bad sides. He can be annoying little shit sometimes, but I still love him." Dean replied and Castiel just hummed at that. "I take it you don't have siblings?" Castiel shook his head. "I can't even imagine that. I was 4 when Sammy was born and we did everything together." Dean said and Castiel gave him a small smile. The next half hour passed in silence again, both of them working on separating the items in the boxes into food, toiletries, clothes and blankets, interesting trinkets to keep and garbage. They found a nearly dead plant, a stapler, a few interesting books and an old Tetris game they decided to keep, as well as some bottle caps, a broken clock and some random junk like papers and broken plastic pieces they all threw in the garbage box.

"You know... I never asked you what do you do?" Dean asked and seemed to want to add something more, he opened and closed his mouth, deciding against it.

"I... I proofread and edit books."

"Oh." Dean said, clearly interested in the fact that they were actually in the similar line of business. "For which company, if it isn't a secret?" Dean added, curious.

"Crossroads Publications Inc." Castiel replied, and hated how cut off his answers were. Why couldn't he talk like a normal person? Why couldn't he be a bit more talkative, a bit more... interesting?

"No... You work for that douche Crowley?" Dean said and Castiel was surprised by the reaction, even though he shouldn't be. He learned just a few days ago just how big of a douche Mr. Crowley could be. "Man, that guy... Have you been working there long?"

"A few years."

"And lemme guess, he underpays you. No, don't answer that, I know he does. He thinks that since his workers don't have strict deadlines and can work from home that it gives him the right to cut their pay. A friend used to work for him, so I know." Dean said and paused, contemplating something for a moment before he started talking again. "Listen, if you ever decide you had enough of that asshole and want to find something..." 

"Hey, guys, breakfast is over, so if you wanna grab a bite of the leftovers..." Alfie popped in and interrupted them. "... Better hurry up, so that I can get started with the dishes." He ushered them, and Castiel completely let go of whatever it was a Dean was tryin to say. Truth was he already had enough of Mr. Crowley, but knew well he couldn't walk away from him just yet.

As they ate, Castiel remained silent for most of the meal, while Meg kept picking around, asking Dean a bunch of questions and laughing when he told her it was none of her business. Still, Meg was far too cheery to be her normal self, and when Balthazar pointed it out, she said she learned that her boyfriend was getting out of jail within a week.

"They are letting Kincaid Foster out? How?" Dean asked frowning. Castiel knew Meg had been with a criminal and was working at the shelter as part of her punishment for helping him, but that was where his knowledge of the matter ended. Obviously Dean knew more.

"Good behavior. Cade played nice and got out on parole." Meg replied with a wink.

"Nobody gets out that fast. Something's up, Meg." Dean said, making it sound like he was trying to warn her. She just pff-ed at him and ignored him. "You really should stay away from him, Meg. I mean it." He said seriously, but kindly and Castiel caught something strange in Meg's eyes as she looked back at Dean. She didn't respond, she didn't say or do anything aside from finishing her last nite and leaving the table. Balthazar gave Dean an approving nod, probably agreeing with his statement, so when Dean glanced his way, Castiel offered a small smile.

They went back to work, and with only a quarter of the boxes left, they figured they would be done before the late lunch. They chatted more, about casual things like weather, books, tv shows and movies and Dean was astounded that there was a person out there that hasn't seen at least one Star Wars movie, so he joked he would have to correct that. Needless to say, Castiel blushed at the implication, but dared say nothing.

Dean just came back from putting another box of food away when Castiel came back with the box of toiletries he couldn't fit in the supply closet. It was Dean's idea to stack them up on the shelves they cleared out in the storage room, and Castiel agreed.

With the last box cleared, Dean went to put away the few cans of food he had while Castiel packed the rest of the toilet paper in the very last box. He took it to the storage room and tried to figure out where to put it, since the shelves here we're pretty packed too. There was one last spot on the highest shelf, so he brought the ladder and started to climb. He just barely lifted the box above his head to put it in place when the ladder wobbled under him and he sucked in a breath, thinking he was going to fall.

A breath of relief escaped him when he managed to stabilize himself, huffing a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. It wasn't something heavy he was carrying, it was just toilet paper. He reached to place the box on the shelf once again and in that moment Dean entered the room and said his name, startling him. The ladder wobbled again, but this time, Castiel lost his balance and shouted as his legs slipped. He heard Dean yell his name again and the next thing he knew, he hit the soft ground with a loud crack.

It wasn't the soft ground, it was Dean he landed on, sending them both crashing to the ground. The loud crack didn't come from him, but from Dean, and by the the looks of it, from his back. Dean's face was contorted in pain as Castiel laid on top of him, so he quickly scrambled off, but not too far. "Dean! Are you... I'm so sorry, I... Are you alright, what hurts?" 

"Only my pride for thinking I can catch you." Dean said with a huff. "And maybe my back, a little bit. But I'll be alright. Just wanna... Just gotta lay here for a bit."

"I'm gonna go get help." Concern covered Castiel's face.

"No, nah, that's... I'm good. Just gimme a sec."

"Are you sure?"

"Stay." He said, his expression soft and pleading. The air around them suddenly grew thick, making it very hard for Castiel to breathe, but he still nodded and stayed, his eyes trained on the green in Dean's. He listened to Dean breathe for a minute before he tried to get up, grunting, and Castile instinctively reached and grabbed his hand to help him up. Dean's back cracked again as he stood up straight.

"See. Good as new." Dean tried to joke, but Castiel didn't find it so funny.

"You should go to the hospital, have them check that out, that can be good. You can't just be fine."

"Seriously, Cas, I'm good."

"But I... I am heavy!" Castiel tried and Dean laughed at his argument. 

"Yeah, you are. But it was worth it." He said and there it was again, that buzzing in the air Castile could feel crawl under his skin. He had no idea what it was, and didn't have time to consider it as Dean slowly, but steadily turned and started walking back towards the main hall.

Since Dean wouldn't listen to him, Castiel decided to tell Balthazar who quickly decided Dean wasn't needed for today and should go home and rest. Dean's expression seemed a bit hurt when he looked back at Castiel, but he still smiled warmly at him before he left.

Castiel spent the rest of the day thinking about him while he helped make the lunch, while he cleaned and ate the leftovers. His thoughts kept wandering back to Dean even after he got home and tried to finish Mrs. Rosen's cheesy book, but eventually had to call it quits, with only two chapters left.

He kept thinking about Dean as he laid sleepless in his bed, looking up at his ceiling, wondering what was it about that man that attracted him so. Sure, there were others that tried to make him smile, that were just as full of life as Dean was, but none of them could bring Castiel out of his shell as easily as Dean could.

That night the nightmares came again. And as Daphne mocked and laughed in his face as Zach tied him up again and breached him with minimum preparation while he cried and wailed and whimpered, it was Dean that came to his dreams and punched Daphne in the face and pushed Zach off of him and out the window. He untied Castiel, caressed his sore wrists as he held him close, rocking back and forth, repeating that it will all be okay.

And Castiel believed him.

Until he woke up the next morning in an apartment that was on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAM! *shouts and runs away*


	7. Chapter 7

It was a nice dream, with Dean saving him and holding him, but then it became a bit suffocating. Castiel found himself unable to breathe properly, and the more air he took, the more his lungs burnt. He startled awake, his nostrils filled with the smell of burnt wood and plastic. The room was enveloped in darkness, and when he tried to turn on his lamp, it wasn't working. He staggered to the wall and tried the ceiling light, and the room did turn a tad bit brighter, only enough to see the outline of the furniture. None of it mattered, because as soon as he neared the door, he could feel the intense heat on the other side.

His mind trying to work through the fog, or smoke, Castiel thought it would be best not to try and open the door, especially since the knob was so heated, he was sure it would burn him. He needed to get out of the room as soon as possible, knowing that if he stayed he would suffocate, so he managed to open his window and take a whiff of fresh air. Only once the oxygen cleared his mind, did he fully process what was happening and he started to panic.

Castiel didn't remember how he got down the fire escape, nor did he remember what his panicked thoughts were, all he would ever remember was the sight of his building on fire and how he stood on the side wearing nothing but his pyjamas and fluffy slippers, and watched the fire department trying to douse the flames that burnt down his entire life.

He would later learn that his downstairs neighbor, Ash, was probably responsible for the fire, and that he, along with a few of his friends, died that night He would be told that he was lucky to be alive, considering how close to the fire he was. Considering how badly his entire living room was destroyed. Considering there was nothing else left but him, his pyjamas and his slippers.

There was only one place Castiel could go to after the paramedics checked him for smoke inhalation, and that was Balthazar's shelter. Since the fire happened in the middle of the night, Castiel reached the shelter with the first crack of dawn, not finding anyone there but the people in the main hall. He crawled into one of the rarely empty beds and curled into himself.

* * *

"Castiel? Are you alright, my friend?" Balthazar's voice drew Castiel out of his dreamless sleep as the man shook him ever so lightly. Castiel slowly opened his puffy red eyes and Balthazar let out a small gasp at the sight. His entire expression grew from concern to a mix of full blown worry mixed with all the comfort he could muster. "What happened?"

Castiel sighed as he started to lift his heavy head off the pillow, his eyes falling closed while he tried to breathe. He sat up, running his hand over his face and frowned when he looked down at it. He didn't even realize he was covered in soot, the powdery substance leaving a black trail on whatever he touched. There had to be a deeper meaning to it, but it alluded Castiel for now. Or he just didn't care anymore.

"My apartment... My building..." He didn't even need to finish the sentence, Balthazar already knew. He had seen the remains of the structure on his way to the shelter, but he had no idea Castiel lived there.

"I am so sorry, Castiel. Tell me what can I do to help?" Balthazar offered and the things that Castiel hadn't even considered came crashing down on him. He had no clothes. He had no money. He had nothing.

He had a bank account with a few hundred bucks, but to get to it, he needed either his bank card or his ID, both of which burnt down. His breathing picked up as tried to remember his social security number, uncertain of the last three digits. If he could only remember it, he could file for a new ID and then he could get to his bank account, but to get to the money that was there, he would need the money for the small fines he had to pay for the new ID. Shit.

Castiel must have started into nothingness for too long, not giving the man an answer, because Balthazar suddenly tugged him up and was lightly shanking his shoulder, trying to get his attention.

"... you hear me, Castiel? Take these and go to my apartment, take a shower, eat something and rest. Alfie is there, he'll help you find some clothes that might fit. Go..."

* * *

It was just after noon when Castiel woke up in a strange bed. It took him a moment to figure out where he was and why and as the reality came crashing down upon him, Castiel buried his head in the soft pillow, wishing it was all just a bad dream.

He did as Balthazar told him, he walked to his apartment and Alfie let him in, showed him to the bathroom and gave him some clean, but oversized clothes, probably Balthazar's. He made him a substantial sandwich and then left him to go to school. Castiel worked on autopilot then, showering, dressing, eating and eventually finding a bed to crash down onto. Still, he knew he couldn't remain there, Balthazar barely had enough room for Alfie and himself.

He needed to come up with a plan, he needed to figure out what he should do next. He knew he needed help, and right now, there were only two people who could really help him. Dean. Or Mr. Crowley.

Castiel wasn't known for making the right decisions in his life. Or wise ones for that matter.

He got out of the bed, and smiled at the note Alfie left him. There was another big sandwich waiting for him and next to the pull out couch Alfie used, there were shoes and a hoodie. The note said to come to the shelter once he felt rested. He should have done that. But instead, he bypassed the shelter and went to Crossroads Publications Inc. instead. Ruby left him waiting for a good half an hour before she even notified Mr. Crowley.

"Castiel, darling... To what do I owe the pleasure?" Mr. Crowley said with a wide smile, but a calculating look in his eyes. "I know you haven't finished Miss Rosen's story yet, would it be much to hope that you are reconsidering allowing us to publish your novel?... Once we find it of course." Mr. Crowley added as he saw Castiel about to ask for it when he mentioned it.

"You... You haven't been able to... Was it deleted off the laptop?" Castiel asked.

"I'm afraid it was. However, Miss Cortese said she vaguely remembered putting it in storage, so I am having some of my minions comb through it. I am fairly certain it will be retrieved eventually." Mr. Crowley said and Castiel actually believed that there was a chance it would be returned to him. Maybe a little hope was good for him, maybe it was what he needed right now, and that's why he decided to turn a blind eye on the glint in Mr. Crowley's.

"If you happen to find it, I... I am willing to discuss the possibility of publishing... And if you don't... Find it, that is, I would consider, um... Writing another one." Castiel said, his eyes darting everywhere, refusing to look up to see the triumph on Mr. Crowley's face. He was in real trouble, and he needed help, he needed some cash, and bottom line? Self-preservation trumped self-respect.

But hey, it wasn't as if he was sucking dick in the back of an alley, right? Still didn't explain the foul taste in his mouth, though.

"That is excellent news..." Mr. Crowley trailed off, ogling Castiel's form, making him extremely uncomfortable all of the sudden. "Well! I will make sure my subordinates double their efforts and find that manuscript... Until then..." Mr. Crowley only slightly turned away from Castiel, as if he was trying to indicate the conversation was over.

"Mr. Crowley?"

"Yeeesss?" God, he was sleazy and he knew it.

"I was hoping..." Castiel started, signed and then thought better. The whole reason for him to agree to let Mr. Crowley publish was so that he could perhaps ask for an advance, or at least some cash, so that he could take out a new ID and get to his bank account. There was no reason to beat around the bush here. "I am currently having some problems, and I was hoping I could ask you for some... For a loan." A small frown flashed upon Mr. Crowley's face, as if he hadn't expected that, but he quickly scolded his features.

"Whatever for?"

"I just... I just need a small loan so that I could take out a new ID and access my bank account." Mr. Crowley blinked at him a few times, probably trying to understand what was going on.

"Lost our wallet, have we?" He offered, his voice not sounding as teasing as it should be.

"More like it burnt down with he rest of my apartment." Castiel said, glancing downward, but when he lifted his gaze, there seemed to be a hint of concern in Mr. Crowley's eyes. Huh. Who would have thought?

"And the laptop?" He asked, and _shit, shit, shit..._

"Oh, no, I completely... I'm so sorry, Mr. Crowley..." Castiel started to panic, he had completely forgotten about Mr. Crowley's property that too was lost in the fire. Strangely, Mr. Crowley just waved it off, still looking a bit stricken, but more contemplating.

"All your saved progress is... uploaded into... sky? No, clouds? Anyway, we have everything you managed to complete with Miss Rosen's story. I believe we can pay you for those nine chapters you already edited, I will... I'll tell Ruby to transfer you the money. I cannot do much beyond that." Mr. Crowley said, looking back at Castiel with wide, scared eyes. It really was an odd reaction on his behalf, almost as if he emphasized with Castiel. Not wishing to dwell on that, Castiel still needed one more thing.

"Is there a chance I could get the money in cash? The reason I need it in the first place it to gain access to my bank account."

"Oh. Right..." Mr. Crowley said, snapping out of his daze. He glanced at his Rolex and frowned. "The bank is closed now, I cannot make a withdrawal... Tommorow morning. I can have cash to you tomorrow morning. Will that be alright?"

"That's great. Thank you Mr. Crowley. Thank you. I'll come back tomorrow." Castiel said as he got up to leave. Mr. Crowley nodded absentmindedly, but as Castiel turned the knob of his office door, the man's entire demeanor changed. There was that glint in his eyes again and that half smirk on his face, but somehow, it seemed warmer and not so intimidating now.

"Glad to have helped. What are friends for? I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Castiel, darling."

* * *

Castiel walked back to the shelter, trying to figure out what else he could do. If Gabriel were around, he sure would have helped him, but he was radio silent for a while, probably on yet another one of his missions. Or party trips around the Europe. Castiel didn't like to think much about what his step-brother did for a living.

It was getting late and Castiel's stomach began to grumble. He looked down on himself and down on his bare hands and just stared at them. It finally caught up with him, the emotions he had been trying to keep buried inside, feelings of hopelessness, pain, uncertainty and fear. His home burnt down. His fucking home burnt down. It wasn't much, but it was his, it was his safe place and now it is gone along with a few things he had and cherished. The few pictures of him with mom and dad, and a few with Gabriel and his step-dad. His father's pocket knife, his mother's medallion. His old wedding ring. It was all gone.

Castiel tried to breathe through the pain and see through the tears, but had to stop and lean on the nearest wall because he couldn't go any further. It hurt so much, he felt so scared and alone, without a single idea about how he could pull through.

Life just kept throwing him curve balls. He thought he was happy with Daphne and he thought she was the one for him, but that turned out to be a lie. She knew about him, about how he was, and she accepted it, or at least Castiel though she did. But then she went and cheated on him and acted like it didn't happen. When he confronted her, she humiliated him before all of their friends, screaming about how she felt she wasn't enough for him, because she didn't have a dick he could suck.

It took him years to let someone in after her. And Zach, he really was nice. Talked the talk and walked the walk and showered him with little things, little tokens of appreciation. Until they moved in together. He turned out to be a control freak who thought Castiel should stay in the kitchen and cook his meals and clean their house and be a little pretty hole to fuck. And Castiel, he just... Took it. In retrospect, he didn't know why he did, because he desperately wanted to connect to someone and make a relationship work, or because it was easier then to admit to another failure. The first time Zachariah hit him, Castiel gathered his belongings and left.

He stopped trying to make meaningful connections after that. Gabriel was the one constant in his life and he was happy to have him, no matter how little that was. The man was, after all, a government agent who saved the world on more then one occasion, so Castiel couldn't really be so selfish to want him around more. But he did let himself be persuaded to help out at a local shelter and that's as how he met Balthazar and later Alfie. They never socialized, never talked much and never spent time together outside of the shelter. It surprised Castiel that Balthazar would just open his home to him like that, but it shouldn't have. The man was a kind soul who fought to make the world a better place. Castiel should really thank him for everything.

Thoughts of the shelter managed to make him feel a little bit better. Even if he never considered any of them as his friends, he still knew them and somehow, they grew on him. When he lost his home, the shelter was the first, and the only place he thought he could go that would welcome him. A place that was... Familiar. Maybe not safe, not like his home, but familiar.

It was only natural he felt drawn to it now. He knew it would offer food and shelter on a cold night with no questions asked. That though made him stop feeling sorry for himself and forced him to move. To try. To fight.

"Oh, thank Heavens!" Balthazar exhaled as he laid his eyes on Castiel. Meg was outside with him as they set the serving table and she frowned deeply as Balthazar's exclamation. The man ignored her and came up to Castiel, his hand reaching for his upper arm and resting there for comfort. "I went to the apartment to check on you and you weren't there."

"I apologize. I went to see my boss, I am trying to... Find options." Castiel replied with a tiniest smile. "But I am here now. How can I help?" It came out automatically, the offer catching even Castiel by surprise, but then again... If he was to dine here, he might as well offer to help. That did not stop Balthazar from gawking at him like Castiel had lost all his marbles.

"Help? What do you... No, no, there... You... You should lay down, rest. You should... Something. Do something for you not..." Balthazar didn't even know what to say. He had never encountered someone in this situation, despite being surrounded by homeless people all the time. He never had to deal with their emotional needs like he felt compelled to do for Castiel. And as much as Castiel appreciated it, right now...

"I need to... I wish to help. I need to... Would you let me help? I need to feel useful. Please." Castiel said and Balthazar just stared at him for a moment before sighing.

"Of course. Meg and I are setting everything here, you could go and help Dean." Balthazar motioned for the kitchen, and then added. "He talked me into letting him make a new meal. I hope it doesn't turn into a disaster."

The thought amused Castiel enough to make the tiniest smile creep on his face. Dean did seem to know his way around the kitchen and his stew was way better then any Balthazar or himself had ever prepared. So he nodded and Balthazar let him go. The closer he got to the kitchen, the more he could feel that amazing, mouth-watering smell, a familiar mixture he just can't put into words yet.

For a long moment, the smell of food and the hollowing emptiness of his stomach was forgotten when those brilliantly green eyes snap in his direction. They smiled, the small crinkles around them conveyed some sort of joy and it was directed at him. Those pink lips tightened as they grew wide, because Dean was smiling - smiling at him. The sight was breathtaking and so warm, Castiel lost himself in it for a moment, until Dean's happy voice reached him.

"Cas. Hey." He said and paused, just looking over Castiel with so much awe in his eyes, but quickly hid it away, probably not wishing to overwhelm the man. "Come 'ere, lemme show you what I made..." He said and turning to pull a huge oven pan with steaming tomatoes and basil over what seemed like Mac & Cheese. The delicious smell filled Castiel's nostrils, his eyes dropping closed and chasing the scent for just a second before he caught himself.

"Looks really good." He said sheepishly and could see amusement floating in Dean's eyes, making him blush.

"How would you like to be my taste-tester?" Dean teased, but God! Yes! Please! Castiel was so hungry, despite having eaten two substantial subs, much more food then he would normally intake. Could be related to slight smoke inhalation he experienced last night? Castiel nodded eagerly, making Dean's smile somehow widen even more. The man snapped into action, grabbing a big spoon and a clean plate and dropping some Mac & Cheese into it, while explaining that he did some research and talked to Balthazar and came up with the idea of maybe changing things up a bit. The shelter served regular Mac & Cheese, but with just a few added ingredients and backing it in the oven, it made a huge difference.

The flavors exploded on Castiel's tongue, his eyes falling closed again and he hummed his delight a bit too loudly, blushing and not daring to open his eyes.

"That good, huh?" Dean's tone was light and just on the good side of teasing, so Castiel opened his eyes, looking shyly over at the smiling man and nodding. "Awesome! I got three dishes, each serving around 30 people, so that should have us covered, right?"

"We normally serve around 60 people so there should be leftovers too." Castiel commented, glad Dean decided to change the course of the conversation and divert attention away from his embarrassing reaction.

"Good. We can make casserole at the end of the week." Dean hummed, going off to take the dishes out of the other two ovens. Castiel helped him carry them out and setting it all up to be served, handing out two spoonful and nodding as people thanked them. Once the dinner was done, they all pitched in with the cleaning and the whole endeavor was over in just under two hours. As Castiel put away the last of the clean dishes, Dean reheated the Mac & Cheese and served it. Everyone hummed their approval and praised Dean, making the man blush, and all helped themselves to a second serving, so Castiel didn't feel as embarrassed about eating so much.

It was nice, to be around these people and to let himself forget about his own troubles and to forget to worry about what tomorrow might bring.

"Hey, um... We're all done here, you need anything else?" Dean asked once the two of them cleaned the rest of the plates and the kitchen.

"No, we're done. That was a very good dinner, thank you, Dean." Castiel said with a small smile.

"Good. Um, you wanna lock up here? Maybe... Maybe I can walk you home?" Dean offered, rubbing the back of his neck and barely maintaining eye contact. Castiel froze. Dean was trying to be nice, he knew it, but he didn't know what happened, and Castiel... Instantly he found himself not wanting to share it with Dean and possibly have the man look at him with pity in his eyes. He didn't think he could handle that, not right now, not today. He would tell him, soon, but... He just wanted this feeling to last. This nice feeling of being around people that somewhat knew him, or at least a part of him, people that cared. Cared about others in general, so by default, cared about him too.

"I have to... I have... I... I have to meet someone." Castiel blurted out. He couldn't tell Dean he had something to finish up, because Dean would offer to help and then find out Castiel was lying, and maybe confront him about it. This was easier.

Except there was nothing easy about it, as Dean's expression turned into a surprised one with a hint of sadness in those beautiful eyes. Castiel froze again, not sure what he could possibly say to make this better, and he didn't get a chance to do it either.

"Oh." Dean said. "Well, that's... Okay. Have a nice evening, Cas." His smile was still warm and genuine and oh! so! sad, and Castiel had no idea why he felt compelled to bring back that joy in Dean's features, but he didn't get a chance. Dean waved, turned away and left.

A different kind of hollow feeling filled Castiel's chest as he laid down on one of those tent beds in the shelter, other people around him giving him a quizzical look, but not asking questions. He snuggled into a thin blanket and instead of dwelling on his current situation, Castiel ended up worrying about Dean, about that sad look in his eyes and how he wished he could make his smile as wide and as happy as it was when he entered the kitchen earlier that day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how the laws in USA work, and how a person who has lost their ID/driver's license/ Social Security Number card can get any of it back, but I did ask around and honestly? I don't like what I found. So I am working under the assumption that if one was to lose all of their belongings, if they knew their SSN by heart, they could take out a new ID at the Social Security Administration office (SSAO) after they pay a fine for the issuing of the same. In order to acquire access to their bank-account, a person has to have said ID or any other form of identification. I do know some banks only require the account number and the SSN to allow a person access, but this suits the flow of my story better, so I am going with it.

**Author's Note:**

> I gotta know what you think? Leave a comment, let me know.


End file.
